


a ticket to anywhere

by artificiallale



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, F/F, Fluff, Lesbian AU, Misunderstandings, Obliviousness, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Tropes Galore!, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2018-12-09 23:33:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 91,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11679390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificiallale/pseuds/artificiallale
Summary: When it’s her turn to order, Katya feels vaguely nervous. She has to open her mouth and speak to the goddess in front of her, try to form actual words and not make a total fool of herself; it doesn’t feel very likely, right now. She steps closer to the counter, and for the first time their eyes meet. She looks up at Katya, then back down at the register, Katya can see how long her lashes are, then back up again quickly, holds her gaze and a little smile spreads across her face, the corners of her lips turned up. Katya smiles back, glances down; there’s a name label stuck onto her black barista shirt, right next to where the buttons are straining a little across her chest. Her handwriting is neat, the letters big and round, i’s dotted with cute little hearts:Trixie.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess it's time for a new fic! this is the first of ~~five-ish~~ ten-ish parts? i think? we all know i can't be counted on to stick to any kind of promises when it comes to the length of a fic so i'm not going to make any. 
> 
> this is really, really soft and indulgent -- i hope you enjoy! the rating will go up in later chapters and there'll probably be some more tags added, too.
> 
> love and thanks as always to my favourite old ladies, matilda_queen, campholmes and UNHhhh, and special thanks to DahliasForKatya and djoodigarland for both working in bookstores (will i ever stop accidentally writing DahliasForKatya's life into my fics? who knows, stay tuned to find out) and sharing your wisdom with me! ily <3
> 
> thank you to the wonderful, amazing [cactus-and-a-lily](http://www.cactus-and-a-lily.tumblr.com) for creating [this gorgeous moodboard](https://cactus-and-a-lily.tumblr.com/post/164690974913/a-ticket-to-anywhere-by-katyaapetrovna-trixya) for this fic. it's so beautiful and i'm so touched that you wanted to make it!
> 
> come say hi @[crackerdyke](http://www.crackerdyke.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you want to, and leave a comment to let me know what you think!

Katya wakes up before her alarm, just like she does every day. One moment she’s fast asleep and the next she’s wide awake, staring into the darkness and feeling like she never slept at all. She takes a few slow minutes to acclimatise to the morning, squints at the ceiling as she blinks away the swirling blue and red in the murky darkness of her bedroom. Finally she gives in, reaches over to her bedside cabinet to pick up her glasses with one hand and tap her phone screen with the other. She pushes her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose, watches the world come into focus, then picks up her phone to look at the time. She still has an hour before her alarm is set to go off; not quite enough time to make the early morning yoga class she likes to go to on the days when she’s awake even earlier, but enough time to feel restless about the day stretching out ahead of her. Her phone buzzes in her palm and for a moment she thinks it’s a message before she realises it’s just her shitty charger kicking in. She glances to the top of the screen: _16%_. She sighs, wiggles it in place until it seems to be working okay, then wedges her phone carefully between the small lamp and the teetering stack of books beside it on the surface of the cabinet and swings her legs out of bed.

Once she’s made it to the clear floor space at the end of her bed she stretches slowly, just like she does every day. She rolls her shoulders, stretches her hands up above her head and laces her fingers together, eyes closed and breathing slow and even before she bends at the waist, presses her palms flat against the floor and walks them inwards until she feels the stretch creep up the backs of her legs. Her glasses slip down the bridge of her nose and she scrunches it up to stop them dropping to the floor, keeps still for a few more counts in her head and then straightens up again. She stretches each leg up behind her, breathes slow and even, focuses on the little crack creeping down the wallpaper from the top corner of the room to keep her balance before she lets her foot drop back to the floor. It’s so quiet still, morning light just beginning to slip through the cracks in the curtains and she wants to enjoy the dusky darkness of the morning for a little longer so she doesn’t pull them open just yet. Instead she throws her covers back over her bed, a token attempt at making it back up after a night of what appears to have been restless sleep, judging by the covers that ended up on the floor and the sheet that’s come away from the corner of the mattress, and then takes herself through to the kitchen.

She starts the coffee maker and pours out cereal for herself, leaves it to sit as she crosses the room to the sliding screen door to the balcony, just like she does every day. It’s a tiny space, she can only open up the tacky folding chair she keeps out there once the door’s pulled open and its legs can rest on the edge of the carpeted floor just inside, but she likes getting to sit out in the frigid morning air for ten minutes in the mornings, extend her legs out and press her feet against the top of the railings, flex her toes and watch the clouds above float by once she’s lit her cigarette and inhaled. Her mornings are slow these days, peaceful. Maybe a little too quiet, sometimes, in a way that has her considering if she could fit a second chair out here, what it would be like to have a woman to wake up next to every morning. But as much as Katya likes the idea of a woman, she likes the quiet, too. She’s so used to her routine, knows that it works for her and keeps her content, even if she’s not living the most exciting life imaginable; it’s not the life she imagined back in college, when she was a bright eyed teenager ready to take the world by storm, but it’s not a bad life by any stretch of the imagination. Still, she likes imagining a woman here: a woman who’s louder than she is, who could fill the space around them with conversation and laughter. Someone who could bring her out of herself when she’s too consumed by the quiet, too wrapped up in figuring out the way the words should work in her head, stressed out by trying to get those words onto paper once they finally start making sense in her own brain. She likes her routine, the quiet helps keep her anxiety at bay, stops it from consuming her even on her worst days, but sometimes, in moments like these, sat by herself and watching the world go by around her, she thinks it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to have a nice girl around to shake things up a little around here.

 

***

 

Once Katya's finished with her cigarette she folds the chair up, props it against the railings and slides the door shut behind her, eats her cereal and sips her coffee while she leans against the counter, just like she does every day. She leaves her bowl in the sink when she’s done, carries her coffee through to the bathroom and leaves the mug on the side of the tub while she turns the shower on, lets the water heat up as she strips off her t-shirt and underwear, sets her glasses down beside the sink next to her toothbrush. She closes her eyes once the water’s running over her, lets the heat sink through her skin for a long moment before reaching over for her coffee, takes a sip before rubbing shampoo through tangled curls. She finishes the rest of the mug while she has conditioner in her hair, lets it sit on the nearest corner of the tub to rinse out, brushes her teeth under the steady trickle of the water above her while the water running through her hair turns clear. It’s good timing; the temperature of the water’s getting steadily colder by the time she shuts it off.

Katya pulls out clothes for the day with her towel wrapped around her, corner tucked under one armpit to keep it secure, just like she does every day. There isn’t a lot of variation in her outfits, today’s is a patterned peasant dress that Violet will no doubt take pleasure in calling ugly when she gets to the store but Katya likes it, the plaid sections and the handy pocket in the front. She’ll put her docs on before she leaves, they’re an old pair of Alaska’s that she left behind years ago for Katya to keep, they’re too big for Katya but if she wears an extra pair of thick socks then they’re as comfy as if they were a perfect fit. She towel dries her hair once she’s dressed and tosses the towel over the heater against the wall, it’s not turned on but it’ll let it air dry a little by the time she gets home later. Her glasses go back on once she’s put on a token swipe of mascara in front of the bathroom mirror, and then she’s done with almost an hour left before she has to leave.

Her notebook’s waiting for her on the couch and she curls herself up against the arm, just like she does every day. It falls open as soon as she picks it up, shows the same pages with scratched out words and phrases, the same ones that she’s looked at every morning for weeks now. She digs between the couch cushion and the arm and pulls out a pen, holds it between two fingers and taps its end against her teeth as she stares at the page. Her glasses slip down a little and she pushes them up with a fingertip, and then she’s still for a moment, considering. She always hopes for the same feeling every single time she looks down at the paper, that the words will come flooding through her brain, maybe even so fast that she can’t get them all down in time, will end up with ink covered hands and cramp in her hand from trying to keep up. It’s been so long since since she’s felt more than the smallest flicker of inspiration; she can barely remember what it feels like to actually write something. She can try, sometimes, to make herself put pen to paper even when her mind’s blank, but she knows deep down that she’s never written anything of worth when she’s tried to force it. So she sits and watches the paper in front of her, hopes desperately that something will suddenly hit her and the word will finally appear in her brain.

But the words don’t come, and so she closes her notebook, bites back a noise of frustration as she tosses it back onto the couch just like she does every day. She sighs, pushes her damp hair back behind her ears and resigns herself to another morning without anything new, another morning of giving up and going to the store early. It’s not a bad thing to get there before her shift starts, not really; Ginger will be opening up by now so she can get some time to check in on her sections, make sure they’re organised and she didn’t miss anything that might have been put back in the wrong place yesterday. She tucks her pen behind her ear and stands up, grabs her backpack from its spot beside the coffee table and hitches it straps up onto her shoulders. Once she’s picked up her phone from her bedroom – it’s up to 40% now, thank god – she steps into her docs and pulls the laces tight, ties them and tucks them into the side against her socks. Then she takes her lanyard from its spot dangling off of the door handle, loops it around her neck and pauses to unsnag one of the pins from the buttons on her dress, makes sure the clasp at the back isn’t about to rip out a chunk of her hair when she moves, and opens the door.

Katya locks her apartment up behind her and drops her keys into the pocket on her dress – handy, she should wear this one more often – and then grabs the handlebars of her bike where it’s waiting for her in the hallway, pushes it towards the stairs and then lifts it by its frame when she reaches the top of the stairs, turns sidewise to carry it down to the door to the building just like she does every day. She sets it back down once she gets out onto the sidewalk and then starts the short journey to the store, ten minutes of cycling that’s never too bad at this time in the morning while traffic is quiet. Sometimes she puts an earbud in for the journey but not today, she can hear the birds chirping around her since there aren’t a whole lot of cars on the road yet. It’s nice, peaceful. Quiet.

 

***

 

She stops outside the store just as Ginger’s opening up, and once Katya’s locked her bike up against the lamp post just outside she goes to meet her by the door, smokes a cigarette in comfortable silence with Ginger just like she does every day. They don’t try to talk; Ginger’s not a morning person, and Katya’s content to smoke her cigarette in the relative quiet of the street. Things are starting to pick up a little, there are more people walking by on the sidewalk, cars parking up on the roadside, businesses opening up along the street. There’s still a little while until they’ll open the store up to the public, and even then no one tends to come into the main section of the store until closer to lunchtime, diverting off from the entrance towards the café for their morning fix. It’ll just be the two of them until around midday, and then Violet or Max will come in to join them for the afternoon when things will start to pick up. There’s always a steady routine in the store; a few students will drift through in the morning, normally looking to pick up some ridiculously overpriced Classic from their syllabus. Then there’s the rush that comes around lunchtime, people coming in to find last minute presents or pick up a new read for their commute home, and then things stay a little busier than the morning until after normal working hours are over. The evenings are a little more unpredictable; Tuesdays are always busier, when the new releases come in, and Wednesday can be swarmed when they have a signing going on (she loves the cheerful YA authors that come in, the enthusiastic crowds of teenagers and college kids they draw in; she can’t stand the pretentious, middle aged men with their self-indulgent purple prose, begs Ginger to give her Wednesdays off on the weeks she knows they’ll be there). The weekends are always busy but she normally only works Sundays, so it breaks it up a little. She’s got her routine, and it works for her. Lets her maintain her quiet, peaceful life, and that’s good for her for now. Things are pretty slow, but they’re calm, and that’s okay.

Once they get inside, Ginger goes to the register to set everything up for the day ahead and Katya makes a beeline for her sections, just like she does every day. Everything looks okay over in the social sciences corner, she tidies up a few books that were left lying around in pyschology and her little parapsychology section is untouched; true crime nearby seems to be in order. She does a quick sweep of the shelves, casts critical eye over everything, makes sure that all of the spines are facing outwards and everything’s still in alphabetical order –- pauses to swap _The Man In the White City_ with _Blood Will Out_ , Larson comes after Kirn -- then circles back on herself to duck through the little alcove towards the back of the store. She claimed this little area as her own years back, when she’d just about been working there long enough to negotiate with the manager, she’d promised to take on new age and spirituality when Tammie left and even handle the dreaded tiny RPG section when Dax isn’t working, the one she tries to pretend doesn’t exist next to her carefully curated selection of comics and graphic novels. It was worth it, though; no one ever comes back here, but she’s got everything laid out exactly as she wants it. She snuck the ugly chair from the front of the store into the corner one morning while Ginger wasn’t paying attention, ostensibly to give customers a place to sit whenever they venture back here but in reality to give herself a nice little spot to escape to when she wants to get away from the world, even just for a few minutes. She looks around; everything’s exactly as she left it yesterday; yesterday, it was exactly how she’d left it the day before.

“Did you see if Pearl’s here yet?” she asks Ginger when she walks back out to the main floor, breaks the silence for the first time that morning. Ginger looks up from her phone where she’s leaning against the back of the counter, gestures vaguely in the direction of the café.

Ginger’s worked here about as long Katya has, maybe just a little longer. She’s the first person to tell anyone that it’s just temporary, just what she’s doing to pay the bills until she finds something better or hits her Big Break, but Katya knows that she doesn’t mind working at the store. She’s been the manager for a few years now, though she hardly acts like it – with Katya, anyway. She likes to wield her managerial power over Violet or Max when they’re getting on her nerves but she never tries it on Katya; they’re both fully aware that Katya knows far more about the store than Ginger. But she has no ambition to manage things, to have to deal with the regional management and corporate training that would probably suck her soul dry within weeks. Ginger doesn’t have any ambition here, either,  but somehow she’s ended up managing the whole place and it makes the two of them laugh sometimes over their last cigarette before the end of the day, that they used to huddle outside together when they first started working at the store when they’d get overwhelmed by customers, back when they didn’t know anything about anything, and they’d promise each other that they wouldn’t stay more than a year. That was back when Katya was still in undergrad, when working at the store was just a part time gig to pay her rent and not somewhere she imagined she’d still be after all this time. She doesn’t let herself think a lot about what her nineteen year old self would have to say about her still working here; but then again she doesn’t let herself think a lot about her nineteen year old self in general.

“She got here just after I did,” Ginger says. Katya smirks, shakes her head – of course she did. Pearl’s shift started almost an hour ago, but Katya’s never known her to get anywhere on time.

“Do you want anything?” she asks, Ginger shakes her head and Katya walks through the quiet store to get to the café. It’s small but busy, typical for a Monday morning, but Katya doesn’t mind the time standing in line. There’s not a lot for her to do in the store just yet, and Pearl will make her an extra strong coffee if she waits it out. She can see her lounging behind the counter, her expression as bored as usual even in the face of the stressed out people half-shouting their orders at her.

“Pearl, you’re supposed to be training,” says a voice from close by, Katya looks over to see Shea kneeling down not far away from her, re-stocking the shelves of coffee beans and takeaway cups they keep right by the line. She’s looking at Pearl with a raised eyebrow; Pearl pulls a face that makes Katya drop her head to laugh quietly to herself.

“Training? During the morning rush?” she says, ignoring the customer in front of her trying to thrust a bill towards her, waiting for her to give them the drink she’s still holding in her hand.

“Where did you leave her?” Shea asks, goes over to the counter to take the customer’s money and rescue their drink from Pearl’s grip, hands it over to them. “Did you abandon her in the back?”

“Dude, I was trying to save her from the mayhem,” Pearl says, rests her elbows on the counter.

“It wouldn’t be mayhem if you actually paid attention,” Shea says, sighs when Pearl just shrugs. She catches sight of Katya in the line and they share a smile. Pearl is terrible at her job, but she has a goofy charm that somehow keeps her on Shea’s good side even when she’s totally annoyed by her.

“Fine, whatever. I’ll go get her,” Pearl says when she turns her gaze back to Shea, who’s no doubt fixing her with a stern look.

“Are you really letting Pearl train someone?” Katya asks Shea, she’s a little closer to her in the line now and Shea has an insane ability to juggle taking orders, making drinks and handling payments while also holding down a conversation. Katya’s constantly in awe of her.

“Well. I’m probably going to have train Pearl in how to train someone, but yeah, in theory she’s supposed to be training the new girl,” she says, Katya laughs and shakes her head. Pearl’s been working here almost as long as Katya has, but she seems perpetually ignorant about how everything in the café works.

Katya scrolls through her phone while she waits in line, checks in on her carefully pared down facebook dashboard, reads a few news articles to pass the time, just like she does every day. The line moves pretty steadily while Shea’s in charge, but when Pearl comes back out from the back Shea steps away again, goes to check the supply levels in all of the machines. Katya locks her phone and tucks it away in her dress pocket – so handy – and looks up again. Blinks. Forces herself to breathe.

The most beautiful girl in the world is standing beside Pearl. Katya can’t really comprehend how gorgeous she is, her long blonde curls, freckled face, big, bright eyes and a little smile on her face as she watches Pearl half-heartedly point out everything to her behind the counter. She’s all soft curves and tanned skin, Katya can see that her nails are painted a pretty pink colour that matches her lips, a few delicate bracelets on her wrist shimmer gold in the fluorescent lighting of the café. She doesn’t look at Katya as Pearl sets her up in front of the register, shows her how to put through the next customer’s order.

“Now you write down what the drink is on the cup,” Pearl says, gesturing to the stack of takeaway cups by her side.

“Oh, right. I just tick the boxes?” she says, and god, even her voice is beautiful. There’s a little twang to it, something mid-western, Katya wants to sit beside her and listen to her talk all day already.

“Ignore the boxes. I just write it out on the cup,” Pearl tells her, holds up one she’s just started filling with ice.

“What does that even say?” the girl asks, abandons her spot behind the register and goes over to Pearl, tries to decipher her untidy scrawl on the cup. Katya can feel her glasses slipping down her nose, her mouth is slightly open as she watches her, taking in the way she moves, the way her curls bounce prettily over her shoulders with each steps she takes towards Pearl.

“Iced latte, vanilla, soy,” Pearl says, pointing at each scrawled word in turn to decipher them for her.

“That wasn’t my order—” a woman by the counter starts to say but Pearl shushes her, puts a hand up to halt her.

“Okay, I can’t see any of those words on there,” the girl says, Pearl opens her mouth to explain but gets cut off when Shea sighs, heavy, turns from her spot behind them.

“New rule: don’t listen to Pearl. Here, I’ll show you,” she says, moving to stand beside her at the register. Pearl looks unbothered, going back to making her drink.

Katya can’t stop watching her. She’s so cute, the way her nose scrunches up as she tries to find the right buttons to press for an order, her serious little nod when Shea’s explaining something to her. The person in line in front of Katya orders the most ridiculous concoction Katya’s ever heard and she watches her eyes bug out, fumbling to find all the right boxes to check on the cup in her hands. Pearl barely reads it when she hands it to her, Katya suspects she’s probably winging it as she adds in different things.

When it’s her turn to order, Katya feels vaguely nervous. She has to open her mouth and speak to the goddess in front of her, try to form actual words and not make a total fool of herself; it doesn’t feel very likely, right now. She steps closer to the counter, and for the first time their eyes meet. She looks up at Katya, then back down at the register, Katya can see how long her lashes are, then back up again quickly, holds her gaze and a little smile spreads across her face, the corners of her lips turned up. Katya smiles back, glances down; there’s a name label stuck onto her black barista shirt, right next to where the buttons are straining a little across her chest. Her handwriting is neat, the letters big and round, i’s dotted with cute little hearts: _Trixie._

“Hi! What can I get you?” she chirps, her enthusiasm has to be forced after the rush of customers she’s had to deal with already in her very first shift, but it doesn’t sound it, at all. She’s already got a cup in hand, pen held ready.

“Just a black coffee, please,” Katya says. Trixie raises one perfectly arched brow at her.

“Black coffee? That’s it? Nothing more complicated?” she says, sounds skeptical. Katya’s cheeks are warm as she nods in response. Trixie’s smile spreads into a beaming grin and she leans across the counter towards her.

“I think I’m in love with you,” she says, her eyes are twinkling and her tone is perfect deadpan serious. Katya’s mouth goes sandpaper dry, she can’t swallow, can’t think, can’t do anything but stare at her.

Maybe today isn’t just like every other day, after all.  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll see you on break later?” Pearl says and Katya nods. The cup in her hands is hot against her palms but her feet are stuck firm to the floor, unwilling to let her walk away from Trixie. She’s already dealing with the next customer, using that same cheery voice she did with Katya while Shea talks her through their order. When Shea goes to actually make their drink – after trying and failing for several seconds to get Pearl’s attention – Trixie looks up, right at her, as if she can feel Katya’s eyes on her.
> 
> “See you later!” she says, grins big and bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the next part! thanks as always to my pals and anyone who's commented on this, in particular scullyitsmeme/djoodigarland and DahliasForKatya for their constant support while i've been writing this. i love you!
> 
> as always, come say hi @ [crackerdyke](http://www.crackerdyke.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you want and leave a comment if you like!

_I think I’m in love with you_. Katya stares at Trixie for a long second, the words bouncing around her brain insistently, before she realises that Trixie’s giggling at her, just a little. She brings one hand up to her mouth, pretty pink nails press against pretty pink lips and Katya manages to snap herself out of it, mortification spreading out through to the tips of her fingers and the ends of her toes at the way she’s reacted to a stupid joke. Her mouth opens and then shuts when she realises that she doesn’t have any words, and all she can do it run her hands over her lanyard, work the fabric nervously between her fingers.

“So…just a black coffee?” Trixie repeats, almost kindly, like she knows she’s helping Katya out.

“Right, yeah,” she says, nods along with her. Trixie nods too, she still has that crooked smile on her face.

“Okay,” she says, keeps eye contact with her for just a fraction of a moment longer than Katya expects, looking at her almost from under her lashes before she finally looks down at the register again.

“Oh, no, don’t put this one through,” Shea says when Trixie goes to enter it into the machine.

“Why not?” she asks, looks between the two of them.

“Shea, it’s fine, I can pay,” Katya says, fumbles in the handy, _handy_ pocket of her dress to pull out a couple of crumpled dollar bills.

“She doesn’t pay in here. She works in the main store,” Shea says, and Trixie’s eyes widen a little.

“Oh! Hi,” she says again, tugs on her shirt a little and points at the name tag stuck to it. “I’m Trixie.” Her name sounds even prettier when she says it in her sweet little accent, Katya thinks.

“Katya,” she replies, lifts her name card dangling from the end of her lanyard to show it to her and immediately feels like an idiot, thinks of the grainy picture next to her name that was taken back when she first started at the store and how terrible it is, drops the card again immediately. Trixie’s giggling at her again, turns to look at Pearl.

“Can I make this one? I think I can manage a black coffee,” she says. Pearl shrugs, holds out the cup for her to take.

“You have to put in, like, two extra shots for her. She’s disgusting,” Pearl says, leans her forearms back against the countertop to watch Trixie.

“Two shots?” she repeats, shoots Katya an alarmed look.

“I never said I needed two shots in there,” she says, puts a hand up in defence. Pearl smirks at her.

“You’ve never complained about it when I’ve given it to you before,” Pearl says. Katya considers, then bobs her head in a bashful nod.

“Are you sure we can give her that much caffeine? She’s so energetic already,” Trixie says, looks over her shoulder to give Katya a sly smile that has her almost swallowing her own tongue.

“Oh my god, listen to the new girl! She called you out, girl!” Shea crows and Trixie throws her head back, laughs loud and heartfelt. Pearl’s giving Katya a knowing look and she can understand why, can only imagine how starry eyed she must be right now.

When Trixie hands her her coffee Katya tries to give her the money, but she shakes her head.

“It’s only my first shift – I’ve gotta listen to the boss,” she says, and Shea nods approvingly from behind her.

“She’s funny _and_ she listens to me? Pearl, are you paying attention? This is how you’re supposed to do your job here,” she says. Pearl rolls her eyes while Katya shoves the bills into their tip jar instead, the same as she always does when they won’t let her pay.

“I’ll see you on break later?” Pearl says and Katya nods. The cup in her hands is hot against her palms but her feet are stuck firm to the floor, unwilling to let her walk away from Trixie. She’s already dealing with the next customer, using that same cheery voice she did with Katya while Shea talks her through their order. When Shea goes to actually make their drink – after trying and failing for several seconds to get Pearl’s attention – Trixie looks up, right at her, as if she can feel Katya’s eyes on her.

“See you later!” she says, grins big and bright.  

“You too,” Katya says, feels her stomach sink down through her legs. _What does that even mean, that doesn’t make any sense at all_ , she’s such a loser, she can see Pearl laughing to herself in the corner. Trixie’s got her head cocked slightly, a little smile on her face and her expression’s considering, like she’s trying to figure her out. The cup in Katya’s hands is burning hot and she needs to stop herself talking again, so she brings it up to her lips. She knows it’s a mistake from the moment it touches her lips, can feel the coffee burning her mouth immediately but she can’t stop herself without spitting it back out and making a total fool of herself so she has to finish her sip, digging her nails into the cup as her mouth burns.

Trixie’s still watching her. Katya does her best to hide how bad her mouth hurts, she can’t feel her tongue and it feels like she’s stripped half of her gums away but she can’t let herself grimace, tries to swallow and it hurts so bad. She sees Trixie’s eyes widen, knows she’s clocked exactly what happened. She can’t break eye contact with her, waits for the inevitable roasting Trixie’s surely going to throw her way, but she doesn’t say anything. Her lips are quirked up in a little smile, though, they’re trembling a little where she’s holding back laughter. Katya’s sure her whole face must be bright red by now, she sends up a silent prayer when she finally manages to move her feet again.

As she turns and goes back through the doorway into the main store, she can hear Pearl say, “I think you broke her, new girl.”

Katya thinks she might be right.

 

***

 

By the end of the week Katya’s just about starting to get the feeling back in her mouth. Ginger had just about cried laughing when Katya had finally managed to explain to her what had happened when she got back into the store on Monday morning, setting her coffee down on the counter and shaking her burning palms, then groaning and dropping her head down to thump against the countertop. She’d barely been able to get her words out but once Ginger got the idea of what had happened she was howling with laughter, hardly able to control herself while Katya closed her eyes and wallowed in self-pity until they had to open the store and Ginger finally had to calm herself down enough to deal with customers.

Every single morning she goes into the café, hopes that she’ll maybe be able to summon the ability to articulate herself for just long enough to actually talk to Trixie when she goes to order. But things are also so busy in there, Pearl or Shea or both of them hovering over Trixie’s shoulder at all times, and the best she can manage is to ask Trixie for her order, ask her how her morning’s going. Trixie’s always chirpy and friendly, gives Katya that same bright smile when she hands her her drink, doesn’t even ask what she wants by Wednesday morning when Katya finds that she’s already making Katya her coffee by the time she gets to the front of the line. It’s sweet, but it never leaves them with a lot of time to talk before she has to move onto the next customer, once she’s refused to take Katya’s money, beamed at her when she shoves a couple of dollars into the tip jar instead. Sometimes Katya hovers there for a just a moment, passing her hot coffee from hand to hand as the cup burns into her palms, and Trixie’s smile will soften, she’ll focus on her even as the next customer tries to get past her to order. Katya wills the words to come, something smart or funny or impressive, anything at all as the seconds pass and she still hasn’t said anything, but her mind goes blank, throat tightens. So she leaves Trixie with a nod, goes back through to the store and lets Ginger tease her about her crush while she – slowly, carefully – sips her coffee.

 

***

 

It’s Thursday afternoon, things have been pretty slow all day and there’s only so many times Katya can check over her sections. She’s circled around them at least three times, checking that there’s nothing she can do, and now she’s spent the past half hour helping Max tidy up in Fiction where someone apparently decided they wanted to look through fifty different books before disappearing and leaving behind stacks of discarded books on different shelves, on the floor, on one of the comfy chairs set up by the shelves.

“Who’s looking at Joyce at the same time as Eileen Myles?” she says, picking up the last couple of books left out and holding two up to show Max. Max raises an eyebrow, shows her the copy of the latest _Game of Thrones_ book she’s found abandoned by the chair. Katya huffs out a laugh. “Someone’s fucking with us,” she decides, slots the books back into the right sections and scans over the shelves around them to make sure she hasn’t missed anything else out of place.

“I think you’re right. Thanks,” Max says, puts back the last book. Katya waves off her gratitude with a hand; it’s nice to have something to do. She has more sections than anyone else in the store, partly because she’s worked there longer, knows more about their contents than anyone else, but partly because they’re mostly pretty niche topics. Most of the time, it leaves her without a whole lot to do when things are dead, so she doesn’t mind pitching in elsewhere.

She does a sweep of her sections, changes around a few of the books she’s put up on display and makes sure all of the recommendation tags are okay, that they still have copies of each of the books facing out for people to look at after they’ve read the little notes. There’s not a lot for her to do after she’s fought the temptation to completely rearrange the art section just to see how Violet would react when she gets in in the morning, and she ends up hovering around the main counter by Ginger, elbows planted on the countertop while she watches the front of the store, waiting hopefully for someone to come in and need help finding something, or to ask for recommendations, she needs something to keep her busy.

“Can you stop?” Ginger asks five minutes later after she’s sighed for at least the third time, flipped through the crumpled print outs tucked under the corner of the keyboard next to the register to look through the lists of what’s coming in next week, made little notes of the signings they’ve got lined up in the next couple of months so that she can book off the days she knows will be the worst.

“I’m bored!” she complains, turns around to lean backwards against the counter and then pulls herself up to sit on the edge of it, nudges the toes of her boots against Ginger’s side. Ginger ignores her and she nudges her a little harder, until she sets down her phone, expression wholly unimpressed as she looks over at her.

“Why don’t you go and get us drinks? You can check in on your girl.”

“She’s not my girl,” Katya replies, gets a raised eyebrow from Ginger. She’d insisted on coming with her to get coffee on Tuesday morning, just had to see the girl that had Katya so tongue-tied she’d ended up drinking scalding hot coffee, and since then she hasn’t stopped teasing her about her crush.

Katya can’t really blame her. Pretty girls don’t usually have this kind of effect on her – she doesn’t date, not really, hasn’t had a girlfriend in years. She likes her solitude, her routine, has never really wanted to disrupt it. She knows how to pick up a girl, has no problem finding one to take home in a bar if she really wants to, but this kind of feeling about someone she barely knows? It’s not really something she’s experienced since college.

But this is just a silly crush, really. She doesn’t know Trixie, doesn’t know anything about her except that she has a cute smile and a mid-western twang. That she wears the same pink lipstick every day and her curly hair is always perfectly smooth and shiny. That she has some kind of strange power to reduce Katya to a stuttering mess whenever she sees her.

Katya doesn’t know her. But she wants to.

“Sure she’s not,” Ginger says, picks her phone up again, “because she _totally_ smiled like that at everyone else in there when I came with you.”

“She did! She’s friendly,” Katya insists.

“You’re so ridiculous. Go get me coffee and be ridiculous somewhere else for a while,” Ginger says, doesn’t look up from her phone. Katya huffs but doesn’t argue – it’s not like the thought of seeing Trixie again is such a hardship, really. It’s the afternoon; maybe, if things are quieter, if she isn’t surrounded by irritable people desperate for their morning coffee, she might actually be able to hold a conversation with her like a normal person.

“Fine,” she says, hops down off the counter and smooths out her dress, untangles her hair from the back of her lanyard. “You owe me.”

“Whatever it takes to get you out of my hair,” Ginger replies easily.

When Katya gets to the cafe she finds it half empty, a few people scattered amongst the half dozen tables, couples talking over coffee or people plugged into their laptops, browsing online or typing furiously, probably college students writing the next great American novel. There’s no line, and Pearl’s behind the counter.

“Hey,” Katya says in greeting, pushes her glasses up her nose and looks around to see if she can find Trixie.

“She’s not here,” Pearl says, smirks at her.

“Who?” Katya says, tries to look innocent, but Pearl’s expression doesn’t budge and she gives in. “Where is she?”

“She left after the morning shift, same as yesterday. She’s only working part time.”

“Oh,” Katya says, tries not to feel too disappointed.

“God, you’ve got it so bad,” Pearl says.

“Shut up, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Katya replies, annoyed by her presumption but moreso by the fact that, well. She’s not entirely wrong.

“Do you actually want coffee?” Pearl asks.

“What?”

“I mean, did you just come in here to look for her, or…?”

“It’s not _that_ bad,” Katya protests. Pearl raises an eyebrow, dorky smile on her face. “Shut up. Shut up!” Katya says, has to laugh as Pearl exaggerates it even more, tucks her chin in a little.

“Please don’t encourage her,” Shea says with a sigh when she emerges from the back. “What are you doing here? Your girl’s already gone home.”

“Oh my god, she’s not my girl,” Katya says, “why does everyone keep saying that?” Shea looks over at Pearl, eyes wide.

“Damn. I was just kidding, but she really is smitten.”

“I know, right? I’ve never seen her like this.”

“I hate you all, I’m quitting tomorrow,” Katya says.

“Oh, _please_. You love this place so much I wouldn’t be surprised to find out you sleep here,” Pearl says, finally turns and starts making her coffee.

“I need drinks for Ginger and Max, too,” Katya says, doesn’t even bother trying to argue Pearl’s point. When she has three drinks in front of her, Shea taps their orders into the system. “Oh, no,” Katya says with a smile, “Ginger’s paying next time she comes in.”

“Sure,” Shea says, waves a hand at her.

Katya picks up the drinks, juggles all three expertly in her arms, but then she hesitates, stands in front of them for a second longer.

“Is, uh…is she—”

“Trixie’s working tomorrow,” Shea says, knowing smile on her face. Katya’s face flushes hot and she turns on her heel, walks out of the café to avoid having to respond to them. She can hear Shea and Pearl laughing at her as she goes.

 

***

 

It’s almost the end of the day, and Katya’s more than ready for it to be over. Fridays are always busy, and even though she hates being bored at work and being left with nothing to do, she’s always a little drained after a hectic afternoon. Still, she’s not working tomorrow, she rarely works on a Saturday – Violet had complained, back when she’d first started working there, that Katya never had to work the busiest day of the week, but Katya and Ginger had set her straight pretty quickly. Katya’s worked there long enough (too long, maybe, at this point) to pick and choose her shifts, and she has no interest in working on the worst day of the week. She likes her free Saturdays, when she has time to go to the same yoga class every week, made some headway with the new books she’s collected over the week. She’s the only one besides Ginger who works there full time, anyway, Max and Violet and Jinkx are still in school and Dax works part time between freelancing, not that they ever really see her, she’s so quiet.

Katya’s looking forward to her day off, but it also means a day without getting her morning coffee. She’d vaguely considered switching her shifts or just coming in for it anyway; then she’d imagined trying to explain to Ginger that she wanted to work a Saturday all of sudden, or Pearl’s reaction if she walked into the café when she wasn’t working, and realised there was no way she could get away with either of those things. It’s not a big deal, anyway – she can go a day without seeing Trixie. Without her cute smile and cheerful greeting and the way her hand brushed against Katya’s that morning when she passed her her coffee, how for a second it looks like the touch made her blush, pretty round cheeks flushing pink under her freckles.

It’s probably going to be a good thing for Katya to get some distance from her, really. If she’s starting to project this stuff onto her, letting herself think that Trixie’s friendly smiles mean something, she needs to take a step back. It’s just some silly crush on the pretty new girl; it doesn’t mean anything, nothing’s going to come from it. Katya needs to remind herself of that. She doesn’t really know the first thing about Trixie, where she’s from, what she wants to do with herself, whether she has a girlfriend – or a boyfriend; she’s probably kidding herself thinking that she’s anything but straight. Katya needs to get some perspective, and a day away from the store should help with that.

Pearl wanders into the store as the worst of the afternoon rush is dying down, makes a beeline for Katya and Ginger behind the counter.

“Break time?” she suggests. Ginger looks around the store; Violet’s kneeling down by the art and fashion section, collecting books from the floor in the aftermath of an unfortunate incident with a screaming toddler, and Dax is sequestered away somewhere, but there aren’t a lot of customers left to deal with.

“Sure,” Ginger says, answers for the both of them. She tells Violet to come grab her if things get busier, and then they make their way out to the back with Pearl. It’s nice to get a minute or two outside, and Katya leans against the railings around the back steps once she’s had the first drag of her cigarette, tips her head back and breathes smoke up towards the sky. Pearl and Ginger are both on their phones, it’s quiet. Peaceful.

The door to the back swings open, bangs against the outside wall before bouncing back a little, and Trixie’s standing there, blinking out at them.

“Oh,” she says, looks between Katya and Ginger and Pearl and then back to Katya again, then down at the coffees in her hands. “Violet said you were on your break, so I brought you a coffee,” she says, extending the paper cup in her hand towards Katya.

“Oh,” Katya echoes, takes it and cradles it in both hands, looks at Trixie with her pretty blonde curls, big eyes, freckle-covered nose. “Thank you,” she says when she realises she should probably actually say something instead of just staring, gets a bright smile in response that she can’t help but return. The cup in her hands doesn’t feel too hot and she looks down at it, sees that it’s two of the disposable ones the café uses stacked together.

“I know, um. You always drink it when it’s too hot, in the morning. I didn’t want you to burn your hands,” Trixie says, sweeps her hair back behind her shoulders. She’s got an iced coffee in her other hand, no doubt pumped full of all of the different sugary syrups that line the back wall of the café behind the counter.

“Hey, where’s mine? I’ve been working all day too,” Ginger says, Katya’s grateful for a second to her for cutting in before she had to try to form a coherent response – but only for a second, and then she’s glaring at her once she realises how rude she’s being to Trixie. But Trixie just shrugs, doesn’t seem all that bothered by her tone as she slots her straw between pink lips and sips.

“I guess I thought Pearl would bring you one,” she says. Pearl and Ginger share an incredulous look before focusing on Trixie again.

“Like I would _ever_ —”

“Bitch, have you met this girl?”

Katya can’t help but laugh when they talk at the same time, they both sound as outraged as each other, and she stifles it by bringing her coffee cup up to her lips. Trixie meets her gaze for a second and they share a smile, before Trixie looks back at Ginger and Pearl, who are both looking at her expectantly. Pearl’s got that stupid smirk on her face like she knows something they don’t; Katya can’t look at her.

“Alright, well. I didn’t know what you like, so I wouldn’t have brought you the right thing. I will next time,” Trixie offers.

“It’s—”

“Tell me next time you come into the café,” she says before Ginger can tell her, “I won’t remember now.”

“Well, that’s me told,” Ginger says, brings her cigarette up to her lips and looks at Pearl with raised eyebrows. Trixie gives her a token smile, then looks back at Katya.

“I bet it’s been busy in there today, right?” she says. “We’ve had so many people come through the café.” She’s leaning against the railings now, almost beside Katya. Katya realises she’s only ever really seen her behind the counter in the café; now she gets to see the curves of her hips, neat black skirt clinging to her thighs.

“Fridays are always pretty busy,” Katya agrees. Trixie giggles, looks down at the ground and then back up at her. Katya can’t look away from the pretty brown of her eyes, brings her cigarette up to her lips to give her something to focus on.

“Hey,” Ginger says, waves a hand in front of Katya’s face. She starts a little and Trixie laughs again.

“What?”

“Isn’t tonight your date night with Alaska?” she asks.

“We’re facetiming later,” Katya says.

“Who’s Alaska? Your girlfriend?” Trixie asks. She sounds curious, fingertips tip-tapping against the railing.

“No!” Katya says quickly. “She’s my old roommate. She lives in LA now.”

“Not her girlfriend, but Alaska wishes,” Ginger says, waggles her eyebrows at her. Katya rolls her eyes.

“That’s not even a tiny bit true.”

“Sure it’s not,” Ginger drawls. Trixie shifts beside Katya, and when she looks back over at her she gets a sweet smile.

“So. Have you worked here long?” she asks, apparently bored with the conversation. Pearl snorts with laughter behind her and Ginger shakes her head, elbows her in the side and Pearl grunts, rubs the injured spot.

“Since college,” she says. She doesn't want to admit how long that's actually been.

“Oh! You went to college around here?” Trixie asks, leans in a little closer to her. Smoke from Katya’s cigarette drifts towards her and she wrinkles her nose, Katya quickly switches it to her other hand, mortified, nods in answer to Trixie’s question and makes sure she breathes her smoke out in the other direction. “Let me guess – Lit major? No, wait!” she says when Katya opens her mouth, throws out a hand to stop her. “Women’s studies. Am I right?”

Katya can’t help but smile, surprised and impressed that Trixie figured her out so easily.

“Katya’s such an easy read,” Pearl says, exhales smoke slow in Katya’s direction with a wide smile on her face.

Trixie glances over at Pearl and then back to Katya, eyes bright. “So. Am I right?” she repeats.

“How did you know?”

Trixie grins back. “Just a hunch.”

“Oh my god,” Pearl mutters. Trixie ignores her, brings her straw up to her lips again and sips, leaves it pressed against her full bottom lip. Katya can’t help but watch her throat as she swallows, can feel heat rise in her cheeks and has to distract herself by stubbing out her cigarette against the railing so that she doesn’t stare. She considers her pack, then takes out another and lights it; Trixie’s still outside, and she’s got her coffee, so it seems like a good excuse to stay outside for another five minutes. When she looks up again, Trixie’s smile looks a little smug.

“What about you, are you in school? Shea said you’re not working here full time,” Katya says. It’s good, she’s doing well, that was an entire, coherent sentence, she’s getting better at talking to her. So she doesn’t understand straight away why Trixie raises an eyebrow at her.

“Oh? You were talking about me?” Trixie says, brown eyes wide and innocent, and Katya’s stomach drops out of her ass. The heat in her cheeks is burning hot now, scalding; she doesn’t know where to look – not at Trixie, she certainly can’t look at Ginger or Pearl, can only imagine how much they’re enjoying watching her trip herself up like this.

“They just – she mentioned—” she’s still trying to figure how to explain herself when Trixie bends almost double, shouts with laughter. It surprises her, the force of it, and when Trixie straightens up again she’s still grinning, one hand closed around the bar of the railing beside her.

“I have an internship, but they only pay me expenses. I just needed something to cover the rent until I can figure out how to get them to actually pay me,” she says. Katya nods, doesn’t trust herself to speak again yet. _This is just temporary_ , she thinks, _she isn’t going to be here long_.

“I thought you were working there today. Didn’t your shift finish, like, twenty minutes ago? What are you doing here still?” Pearl says. Trixie finally looks away from Katya and over at her, shrugs and sips her coffee again, the ice in the bottom rattling.

“I just wanted to come and say bye,” she says. She lifts her arm up enough to look at the watch on her wrist. It has a pink leather strap, gold around the face. It suits her; Katya glances down at her own watch, chunky and black on her skinny wrist. “Okay, yeah, I should go,” Trixie says, glances at Ginger and Pearl before her gaze settles on Katya again. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Katya shakes her head. “I’m not working until Sunday.”

“Oh. I’m not here Sunday,” Trixie says, lips pulling down just a little into a frown. Her brow crinkles just a little bit and Katya wants to reach out and smooth her thumbs over it, kiss her forehead.

God, she’s so totally fucked.

“Monday?” Trixie’s voice draws her out of her ridiculous little daydream, and she nods. Trixie smiles again, opens the door and hovers with one foot inside. “Okay. Have a good day off!”

“Thanks for the coffee,” Katya says when she realises she really has to say something, can’t just keep nodding at her like an idiot. Trixie beams at her, wiggles her fingers at her in a wave before disappearing inside. Katya watches the door, silently berating herself for being so weird in front of her, and when enough time’s passed that she’s sure Trixie must be back in the cafe now, or even out on the sidewalk at the front of the store, she sighs and stubs out her cigarette, drains the last mouthful of coffee. It’s almost cold, but at least she didn’t burn herself on it this time. She catches sight of Pearl and Ginger’s expressions when she goes to head back inside; they’re both watching her far too gleefully.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” she warns them. Pearl snorts, takes out another cigarette, while Ginger follows her back inside.

“Your girl’s kind of a bitch,” she says.

“She’s not my girl!”

 

***

 

Katya doesn’t get home until ten minutes before Alaska’s supposed to call her. She always spends longer at the store after they’ve closed on Fridays, since she won’t be there the next day; she likes to make sure that her sections are tidy, set up properly for the next day, feels better about leaving when she knows everything’s in order since Violet and Jinkx probably won’t have time to check in on them on the busiest day of the week.

She hasn’t spoken to Alaska properly in a while, nothing apart from a few texts here and there, Alaska sends her videos from work sometimes and Katya will send her pictures of any funny book titles that she thinks might make her laugh, but they haven’t found time to call or anything in a weeks – maybe months, now Katya thinks about it.

It’ll be nice to talk to her. Maybe she’ll tell her about Trixie; it’ll give her something to talk about, in between Alaska’s ridiculous stories about work that she’ll inevitably have to share with her.

She drops her bag by the couch, goes straight out onto to the balcony. Her phone and cigarettes come out of their spot tucked into the side of her bra – she really needs to buy more dresses with pockets in – and once she’s got a cigarette lit and between her lips she opens her phone.

 

_Alaska: hey girl, running late. give me 30?_

 

_Katya: you’re a rotted cunt._

 

_Alaska: i’ll take that as an okay._

 

She stands up, sets her phone on the corner of the chair and wanders back inside. She comes back a moment later with her notebook in hand, and once she sits down she grabs her pen – it’s migrated over the course of the day from behind her ear to tangled in her hair where she pulled it up into a messy knot of a bun earlier. Cigarette clamped between her lips, she opens the book up. She looks at the messy pages in front of her, the same words she’s been stuck on for months and months, determined to figure out how to make them work, get them from her head to the page.

She stares at them for a moment longer, then turns over onto a fresh page.

Forty five minutes later, she lets out a frustrated sigh and drops her pen into her lap. She’s on her third cigarette, and all she has to show for her time is a few scratched out sentences. The words are there; she can feel them, in amongst insistent thoughts of pretty blonde curls and screeching laughter. She can feel them, tangled up in the chaotic mess of her brain, but she can’t reach them.

Her phone buzzes against her thigh and she picks it up.

 

_Alaska: something came up. raincheck?_

 

Katya purses her lips around her cigarette; she’s starting to remember now why they haven’t spoken properly in so long.

 

_Katya: sure, no problem. let me know._

 

She tips her head back, looks up at the darkening sky. It’s so quiet. Peaceful.

For once, it feels a little suffocating.

Since Alaska’s apparently too busy to call her now, she doubles down on her focus, stares hard at the page in front of her. Her pen touches paper, but all she can do is doodle a small set of eyes in the corner of the page – wide, bright eyes framed with long lashes.

She only has a black pen, but she doesn’t need to fill them in to know what colour they're supposed to be.

She snaps her notebook shut, drops her pen again and doesn’t bother to pick it up when it rolls off her thigh and onto the floor. She takes her glasses off, pinches the bridge of her nose and squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. The silence around her is deafening.

She really needs to get a grip.

So she stands up, folds her chair up again and props it against the wall, takes her phone and cigarettes and notebook back inside. Once her notebook’s back in its spot on the couch, cigarettes replaced on the kitchen counter, she fetches herself some water and goes through to her bedroom, just like she does every night. It’s not all that late, but if she’s going to make her favourite Saturday morning yoga class then she’ll have to be up early. Besides, she didn’t sleep all the much last night, woke before dawn and stared at the ceiling for a while before giving into the day.

She strips down to her underwear and stretches at the foot of her bed, just like she does every night. She focuses in on her breathing, eyes closed, for a few minutes, and then once she’s brushed her teeth she climbs into bed. She makes sure her phone’s actually charging once she’s plugged it in, takes her glasses off and sets them down next to it. The silence is a little more peaceful again, doesn’t feel like it’s closing in on her anymore. She feels a little calmer, her brain’s moving a little slower, now.

She falls asleep thinking about tanned skin, freckles; pink lips, curled up in a sweet smile just for her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you own anything that isn’t a problem pattern dress?” Trixie asks, reaches across the desk to tap her fingertips against the sleeve of Katya’s dress. Ginger snorts with laughter from the end of the counter, smirks over at Katya, who’s doing her best not to react to Trixie’s touch. It would be so much nicer if it was her fingers against bare skin, but she’s also not sure she could handle it if it was.
> 
> “That depends on what you define as a problem pattern,” she says, and Trixie grins at her.
> 
> “I’m going to take that as a no.” She brings her hand back, doesn’t look away from Katya. “It suits you. You can pull it off."
> 
> _I’d like you to pull it off_ , she thinks, then immediately hates herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter three! the tag 'obliviousness' is there for a reason. expect somewhere around 10 parts to this, give or take a couple.
> 
> thanks as always to my wonderful friends, matilda_queen and djoodigarland and DahliasForKatya. ily! <3
> 
> come say hi @ [crackerdyke](http://www.crackerdyke.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you want, leave a comment if you enjoy!

A few weeks pass, and Katya waits patiently for her interest in Trixie to wane, sure that the more she gets to see her the more likely it is that her intense little crush will wilt. She likes the idea of her, but she’s sure that the more she gets to know her, the more she becomes a real person, she’ll surely find something she doesn’t like; then, maybe, she’ll be able to act like a normal human being around her.

But the more she gets to know her, the more she likes her.

Trixie’s funny. She banters back and forth with Shea and Pearl constantly in the café, makes fun of Katya when she comes in and she always does it with that sweet smile on her face. Katya gets to know the patter of it: the deadpan comment and then beat of silence while she takes in her target’s reaction, the howling laughter that follows, the way it takes over her whole body like she thinks that she’s so funny that she physically cannot contain her reaction any longer. It always makes Katya laugh, too, earns her a big grin in response that makes something in her stomach tighten.

Trixie’s kind, she brings Katya coffee in the afternoons sometimes when she’s working the whole day, saves her a nice table by the window if she knows that she’s going to come and sit in the café for lunch – which Katya’s started doing more and more frequently. She still makes an idiot of herself in front of Trixie more often than she’d like, but she’s learning. Besides, she finds that she doesn’t always mind acting like a total fool when it gets a laugh out of Trixie, earns her one of those beautiful smiles.

Trixie’s pretty, too. But Katya already knew that.

 

***

 

The first time Trixie walks into the main store, Katya drops the book she’d been about to put back. It’s been a particularly busy Friday and she hasn’t found a moment to take a break between customers constantly approaching her all afternoon. She’d been about to head out to the back for a much needed cigarette, part of her hoping that Trixie might magically appear with a coffee and a smile to keep her going for the rest of her shift – and then Trixie appears, right there, standing in the doorway between the store and the café and looking around. Katya’s definitely staring at her when Trixie spots her, eyes flickering between Katya’s face and the book on the floor by her feet. She grins at her, holding up the Styrofoam drinks holder in her hands a little higher to show her.

“What are you doing here?” Katya asks, meeting Trixie by one of the low tables next to the deserted reference section once she’s picked up the book from the floor and hastily shoved in onto the shelf. Ginger’s dealing with the line of customers at the counter, which is getting mercifully shorter now, Violet’s talking to someone over in Art.

“Pearl said you couldn’t take your break with her, since things were so busy in here. I thought you might need a pick me up,” she says, hands Katya a double-walled cup, the largest size they have. “There’s only one shot in there but I figured that might be better for this late in the afternoon,” Trixie explains, smiles back at Katya when she gets a grateful grin. She sets out the three other drinks on the table for the other girls, all smaller than Katya’s huge coffee. There’s a G and a J scrawled across two of them, and Violet’s name written out in Pearl’s messy handwriting on the last one, no doubt the weird coffee concoction she likes that no one but Pearl can make well – the one talent Pearl has in the café, apparently. Her own name is written in Trixie’s nice handwriting, a funny little smiley face at the end.

“Are you working tomorrow?” Trixie asks and Katya shakes her head. “Me neither. I was supposed to go to my internship to prep for this big event we’ve got happening next week, but it’s been pushed back so they don’t need me.”

“Oh! That’s nice,” Katya says, and Trixie’s eyes crinkle a little in amusement.

“It is. Any fun plans for the day?”

“Oh, uh…yoga in the morning, probably,” she says, desperately searching the corners of her brain in an attempt to think up something interesting she can say she’s doing. Trixie’s watching her closely, winding one of her long curls around her finger.

“Sounds fun,” Trixie says after a few seconds when it’s clear Katya isn’t going to say anything else (definitely not because she got distracted by Trixie’s pretty, pretty hair).

“Yeah,” Katya says lamely, “what about you?” Trixie shrugs, lets her curl drop. It bounces around the side of her face, and she tucks it behind her ear.

“Nothing yet. I didn’t know I was getting it off until this morning, so I don’t know what I’m doing,” she says. Her head’s tilted slightly, she’s giving Katya a look she can’t quite figure out. Katya can only imagine all of the things someone as fun and friendly as Trixie could do with a day off – there’s no way her plans could be as sad as Katya’s are.

“Hey,” says a voice from the doorway. Pearl’s standing there, leaning into the store. “Shea’s looking for you, I can’t cover anymore,” she says to Trixie, who sighs.

“Okay, I’m coming,” she says, looks back at Katya for a moment.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Katya says, and Trixie’s smile falters for a second, then sets back in place.

“Have a fun day off,” she says, takes a few paces backwards.

“You too,” Katya says before Trixie turns around, disappears back into the café behind Pearl. Katya stays still for a moment, then sighs and picks up the other drinks, carries them over to the counter. She takes Jinkx and Violet theirs – gets a smirk from Violet when she sees her name written in Pearl’s handwriting on the cup – and by the time she gets back Ginger’s sent the last customer in the line on their way and is examining her own coffee.

“What the fuck is this?” she asks, takes the lid off her drink and peers inside, tilts it over a little bit to show Katya the half-filled cup. Katya shrugs, brings her own to her lips. “Bitch! Don’t you shrug at me with your nice big coffee, what’s wrong with your girl?”

“She’s not…C’mon, isn’t that your drink?” Katya says, cuts herself off from trying to fight Ginger calling Trixie that – she's never going to stop, so it’s just a waste of energy.

Besides, it’s not like she really minds hearing it.

“How the hell are you so smart and so, so stupid at the same time?” Ginger asks, sighs and replaces the lid on her drink, takes a sip and pulls a face.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh my god, I’m not getting into this with you now. Drink you nice coffee and go save Jinkx from the college kids, okay?” Ginger says, waves her away with a hand. Katya rolls her eyes, goes to respond but then the phone under the countertop rings and Ginger has to pick it up. Katya doesn’t worry herself too much with what Ginger said – trading off bitchy comments is one of their main forms of communication. She glances over to Jinkx by the display of study guides with a small group of fretting kids surrounding her, figures she’s got another minute or two before she needs to step in – just enough time for her to finish her coffee. She looks down at the cup in her hands, traces her finger over the shape of her name on it, can feel a little smile pull at her lips.

 

***

 

After that first visit, Trixie comes into the store on her breaks sometimes. The breakroom is boring, she says, especially when no one else is in there, so she’d rather come and hang out in the store while they’re working if there’s someone who has time to entertain her. That person is usually (almost always) Katya; Trixie likes to come and hover by her if she’s tidying one of her sections, ask questions about what she’s doing and how her day’s gone. If Katya’s busy she sometimes hangs out with Violet or Max or Jinkx, but she’ll usually make her way back over to her once she’s free again.

Today is a Tuesday and it’s quiet, Katya’s helping Ginger go through their stock list at the counter and Trixie’s right next to her. She appeared ten minutes before, handed her a coffee and ignored Ginger’s huff and eye roll, and now she’s leaning against the counter opposite her, sipping at her big iced coffee with her head tipped close enough to Katya’s that she can practically feel her breathing by her neck, hear her suck on the straw right by her ear. She doesn’t dare look up much, Trixie’s elbows are almost brushing hers and her chest’s sticking out; if Katya looks at her, she can see the way her shirt’s gaping at the buttons, catch a glimpse of tanned skin and lace.

She could have probably (definitely) guessed that Trixie would wear pink underwear, but now that she has evidence she’s not sure she’s ever going to get the image out of her mind. It’s got her palms all sweaty; she had to put down the coffee Trixie had pressed into her hands when she appeared so that she wouldn’t end up dropping it.

“Do you own anything that isn’t a problem pattern dress?” Trixie asks, reaches across the desk to tap her fingertips against the sleeve of Katya’s dress. Ginger snorts with laughter from the end of the counter, smirks over at Katya, who’s doing her best not to react to Trixie’s touch. It would be so much nicer if it was her fingers against bare skin, but she’s also not sure she could handle it if it was.

“That depends on what you define as a problem pattern,” she says, and Trixie grins at her.

“I’m going to take that as a no.” She brings her hand back, doesn’t look away from Katya. “It suits you. You can pull it off.”

 _I’d like you to pull it off_ , she thinks, then immediately hates herself. This is why she shouldn’t be trusted to talk to Trixie – thank god she didn’t say it out loud, at least. She looks down at the listings in front of her to avoid looking at Trixie, who’s still sucking on her straw so close to her ear. It’s driving her crazy.

“So,” Trixie starts, but then Pearl’s wandering over from the café, cigs tucked into her palm.

“Break?” she suggests to Katya.

“It’s still my break!” Trixie cuts in, she’s frowning at Pearl.

“Can you calm your tits? Shea said I could go, she doesn’t need you back yet,” Pearl says. They stare at each other for a moment and then Trixie’s shoulders drop back down.

“Fine, whatever. I’ve still got 10 minutes,” she says. Pearl shrugs.

“Whatever, dude, I really don’t care.” She looks back at Katya. “Break?” she repeats to her, gesturing to the back.

“Not yet,” Ginger says, looks up at them from where she’s hunched over a stack of print outs. “We need to get this finished first. We’d go a lot quicker without any distractions,” she adds, looking directly at Trixie. She just gives her a saccharine smile, doesn’t budge an inch. Ginger rolls her eyes, looks back at her papers.

“Pearl,” Violet says, coming over to the counter. She stands at the corner so that she's leaning almost directly between Trixie and Katya; Trixie has to swat her long ponytail away with an annoyed expression on her face. “Did you bring my coffee?”

“Oh, I—” Pearl gestures with her empty hands to demonstrate.

“I texted you!”

“I’m on my break now,” Pearl protests. Violet stares her down, and a few seconds later she relents, turns on her heel to go back to the café. Violet’s got a smug look on her face, flashes Katya a grin when she turns and retreats back to her section to make sure everything’s in order, ponytail whipping against Trixie’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Trixie says, leaning in even closer to Katya and dropping her voice, “what’s going on with them?” Her face is so close to Katya’s, brown eyes staring right into hers. Katya swallows, stares at her for a second, and when Trixie’s lips tick up at the sides she remembers that she’s supposed to respond to her.

She _really_ needs to get her shit together.

“Pearl and Violet?” she says. Trixie raises an eyebrow at her.

“Who else? Ginger and her paperwork?” she teases.

“Fuck off!” Ginger says, glares over at them. Trixie giggles, and Ginger looks directly at Katya, drags her fingertip across her neck. It’s supposed to be threatening, but Katya just picks up her coffee, ignores her.

“Yes, Pearl and Violet,” Trixie repeats, looking back at Katya. “I tried asking Shea, but she says she doesn’t want to think about Pearl for a second longer than she has to. And you seem to know everything about this place, so I figured you’d know.”

“I don’t really know. I think something happened a while ago, when Violet first started here, but I don’t know much about it,” she says. Trixie nods, digs her teeth into her lip. Katya reaches for her coffee just for something to occupy her hands, but then Trixie says,

“And what about you and Violet?”

Katya’s glad she hadn’t picked up her coffee yet.

“What? _Me_ and Violet?” she repeats. Trixie’s cheeks are a little pink now, but she nods.

“Yeah. Has anything ever happened between you two?” she asks. Katya can feel her eyes widen; out of the corner of her eye, she can see that Ginger’s watching them.

“No! Me and _Violet_? Why would you think that?” she asks. Trixie smiles at her again, then shrugs one shoulder and picks up her drink again.

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” she says.

“Violet?” Katya says. She’s still trying to figure out where the hell all of this is coming from.

“Are you interested in her?” Trixie asks, sounds like she’s doing her best to come across casual. Is _she_ interested in Violet?

“ _Violet_?” Katya repeats. Trixie rolls her eyes.

“Keep saying her name, why don’t you? Do you want her to hear us?”

“Sorry,” Katya mutters, glances over at Violet. She’s talking to a customer in the opposite side of the store, thankfully seems totally unaware of their conversation. “No, I’m not interested in her.”

Trixie nods. “Good,” she says.

“Good?” Katya says back. She thinks she’ll die if Trixie asks her to talk to Violet for her.

“Mm,” Trixie hums around her straw. She’s looking around the store again now, and after watching her for a moment Katya finally looks back at the papers in front of her. She wants to stand and talk to Trixie all day, of course she does, but she also needs a cigarette, so she’s going to have to get this done at some point so that Ginger will actually let her take her break with Pearl. She scans down the list for the sections she hasn’t covered yet, hits on True Crime and looks over, sees it’s empty.

“I’ve gotta go…” she trails off, gesturing over towards it.

“I’ll come with you. I can help, if you want,” Trixie offers.

“You’re on your break!”

“I don’t mind,” she says, shrugs. “I’ll come with you, at least.”

So Trixie follows her over to True Crime, perches on the arm of one of the nearby armchairs while Katya kneels down, starts going through the books out on display and matching them to her list.

“Oh, hey, look at these two,” Trixie says when Katya’s almost done. Katya looks over her shoulder to see two middle aged white women hovering by the biography section. Their clothes scream money, and Katya shifts around on her knees to watch them with Trixie. They’re considering the titles out on display, one of them picks up a new-in celebrity biography, one of the women whose name Katya's heard but she has no clue how they got famous, who she always gets confused with a dozen others who seem exactly the same to her. “I like her because she’s just like us, you know? She understands _real people_ ’s struggles – what to do when your husband isn’t earning enough money to pay for the nanny _and_ the maid, or, like, what to do when your friend buys the same dress as you. It’s so relatable,” Trixie says, whispering to Katya in a high pitched, exaggerated voice. It’s a familiar game: Trixie likes to impersonate the people in the café when Katya comes in on her lunch, whenever Trixie comes over to keep her company if things aren’t too busy. The first time she’d done it she’d surprised Katya so much that she’d screeched with laughter – Trixie had looked shocked, and then her eyes had lit up in delight, and now it’s a regular part of her repertoire whenever they talk.

“I’m sure her life story is just _fascinating_. I’m dying to read all about how hard it was to grow up in a rich family, how difficult it was never wanting for anything and having everyone judge you for never struggling – that’s the _real_ discrimination in this country, against the rich,” Katya banters back, her own voice matched to Trixie’s in that ridiculous high pitch without even thinking about it. Trixie’s quiet for a beat and Katya looks over at her just in time to see her burst out laughing. It’s that loud, almost ugly laugh that Katya finds so ridiculously endearing, the one that seems to take over Trixie’s whole body so that she almost topples off the arm of the chair, sends Katya into hysterics too. Katya reaches out to steady her instinctively, gets a hold of her thigh to keep her upright. Trixie grabs at her hand, still practically doubled over. Once Katya calms down a little she looks back over at the women on the other side of the store and sees that they’re glaring at the two of them, no doubt annoyed by their laugher disturbing them. Ginger’s watching them in something like alarm, too, and Katya takes her hand back from Trixie’s knee. Trixie’s still giggling as she follows Katya back over to the counter, marked off stock lists in her hand.

“You two are a mess. I need an adult,” Ginger says. Katya rolls her eyes, doesn’t bother responding to her, sets down the papers and the recommendation card she took off the shelves.

“We need a new rec card over there. This one’s really old,” she tells her.

“Well, go on, then. We both know you’re the only one here who reads that stuff. Unless you’re going to get your girl to do it?” she says, grins wickedly at her, and Katya immediately just want to, like. Die. Well, first she's going to murder Ginger, but then she's good to die. 

“What are you talking about?” Trixie asks, pulls the card towards her on the countertop and reads over it. Her cheeks are a little pink. “Oh, these little things! Do you write them?” she asks Katya.

“Yeah, for my sections – well, and some of the others, too, if they need them. I need to replace this one,” she says, painfully grateful that Trixie didn’t say anything about Ginger calling her _her girl_. Maybe Trixie feels awkward, too, or maybe, she hopes desperately, she didn’t even take it in.

Trixie hums, leans against the counter right by her side so that her elbow bumps against Katya’s when she lifts her drink to her lips. Katya tries to ignore it, reaches for a pen and grabs a new recommendation card from the drawer. She looks down the list of books for one she’s read recently enough to remember plenty of details to write down.

“How many of these books have you actually read?” Trixie asks, pulls the stock lists towards her and flicks through them. Katya thinks of the stacks of books in her apartment, how she doesn’t think she could even begin to count them, all left around every room haphazardly.

“Some,” she says with a shrug, pushes her glasses up her nose and carefully writes out the name of the book along the top of the card. She always uses her neatest print when she has to write these, since her usual handwriting is barely legible most of the time.

“ _Fame, Lust, and the Beautiful Killers Who Inspired Chicago_ ,” Trixie reads, “wait, like, _Chicago_ , Chicago?” she says, taps her nails right beside Katya’s hand.

“Say Chicago again, I dare you,” Ginger says irritably, doesn’t look up. Trixie looks over at Katya and then giggles, stifles it against her palm.

“Mmhm. It’s good,” Katya says. Trixie’s little finger brushes against hers. She hesitates, waits as long as she can before she starts writing again.

“I love that musical,” Trixie says, leans in closer to read what she’s writing.

“Maybe you should read this, if you like my recommendation,” Katya says, glances over at her. Trixie grins at her.

“Maybe. I could come take a look on my break tomorrow,” she suggests.

“You can’t come in here on your break every single day and distract her,” Ginger says. Katya glares at her, and Trixie leans forward to look at Ginger past her.

“I won’t be distracting. I just said I was going to come in and read. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do in a bookstore?” she asks, cocks her head. Ginger’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t respond.

“I don’t know who you’re kidding, pretending you’re going to actually read that. Do they even teach you to read in Wisconsin?” Pearl says. She’s given Violet her coffee and now she’s standing by the counter, tapping her lighter on its top insistently to remind Ginger and Katya that it’s time for a cigarette. Katya ignores her – she wants a cigarette, sure, but there’s no way Trixie’s break can last much longer, and she doesn’t want to remind her that she needs to go back to the café.

“Hey! I read plenty,” Trixie says.

“Dolly Parton biographies don’t count,” Pearl counters.

“Okay, yeah, some of them are trash. But some of them are really fucking good, like, the Schmidt one? It has so many great interviews.. And Dolly’s books, the ones she actually wrote? They’re so good!” Trixie tells her.

Pearl blinks at her. “You’re such a hick,” she says finally.

“Listen, Dolly Parton is a feminist fucking icon and you can fight me on it,” Trixie insists.

The big, blonde hair and ever present pink makes even more sense now, Katya thinks.

“Anyway, I like to read,” Trixie says, tucks her hair behind her eyes and glares at Pearl. She glances over at Katya for half a second, then back at Pearl. “Sasha gave me a whole list of stuff I should try.”

“You met Sasha?” Katya asks, surprised.

“Shea goes way back with my roommate. That’s how I knew about this job,” Trixie says, shrugging. “She gave me a whole list of books that she said I have to try now that I’m working here.”

“What kind of stuff?” she asks.

“A lot of theater books, some about art. A few that sound like they’re all about theory, but she was really into them.”

“What, like Butler or something?” Katya asks curiously. She’s had plenty of interesting conversations with Sasha about that kind of thing, enough to have a good idea of what books she would have suggested to Trixie; talking to Sasha is usually one of the few opportunities she gets to actually put everything she learned at college to good use.

“I think that was one of them,” Trixie says. “She said I’d be interested.”

Katya wrinkles her nose. “It’s kind of heavy.” Trixie’s lips quirk up into a little smirk.

“I can handle heavy. What, they’re no fun? I thought they’d be just your kinda thing, didn’t you read all of that stuff for college?” she asks. Katya shrugs.

“I mean, yeah, but – it’s just stupid, that’s all. I think it’s a waste of time,” Katya says, fumbling a little under the weight of what she’s trying to say. “It’s dumb. I don’t think it’s worth anyone’s time reading through all that heavy theory shit, not unless you have to for school. It’s interesting, don’t get me wrong, if you really wanna read it, but it’s all so wrapped up in pretension and, like, academic politics and it’s not meant to be accessible, at all, which just defeats the entire purpose of it! What’s the whole point of spending all that time on something that’s supposed to be educational when you don’t even want anyone who isn’t already educated to be able to understand it? There’s too many problems in the real world to worry about all that shit, there’s ways of talking about it and debating it without having to get all showy and, like, smart with it, you know? I know Sasha likes it and she knows all of that, too, but I…I have my issues, I guess,” Katya says, trails off when she realises that all eyes are on her. There’s silence for a second, the rattle of Violet’s straw in her drink the only sound to be heard apart from the quiet music playing through the store.

“Well. _Someone_ went to college,” Pearl drawls finally.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that many words,” Trixie says. Katya can feel herself blush, but Trixie’s still smiling at her. It’s a slightly different smile: softer, considering.

“Oh! Trixie, Shea told me to send you back,” Pearl says a moment later. Trixie looks over at her, then at Katya, then back to Pearl. Nods, finally.

“Yeah, okay. Shit, I’ve been gone way too long,” she says, sighing. “You think you could come up with some better stuff for me to read?” she asks Katya, sounds a little hopeful. Katya can’t nod quickly enough. Trixie’s smile brightens into a grin. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Katya repeats, can feel the smile pulling the corners of her lips up as she watches Trixie walk away.

Once Trixie’s disappeared out of sight, Ginger rolls up a couple of sheets of paper, whacks them against the back of Katya’s head.

“What the fuck?” she gasps, jumping in surprise and touching a hand to the spot Ginger hit.

“Just go have a damn cigarette. You,” she says, gesturing at Pearl to get her attention, “go, go on, take her with you. She’s no use to me when she’s like this.”

“What do you mean, when I’m like this?” Katya asks, lost. Pearl grabs her cigs for her from under the counter, tugs on her arm to get her to follow her when she won’t move. Ginger waves her away, glares until she moves her feet to go out to the back with Pearl.

“Go and get yourself together," Ginger grumbles, Katya can hear her muttering to herself as they walk away, "I swear to god, if this carries on much longer I’m going to lose my fucking mind, you’re _such_ an idiot.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [katya's recommendation!](https://www.amazon.com/Girls-Murder-City-Beautiful-Inspired/dp/0143119222/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1502216157&sr=8-1&keywords=the+girls+of+murder+city)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie huffs out a little laugh, crosses the space between them. She moves around to stand behind her and before Katya can really think about what she’s going to do there are gentle fingers tugging a little on her hair, brushing over her neck. It’s like she can feel her touch all over her body, spreading out across her skin towards her extremities. She closes her eyes for a moment, bites her lip, grateful that Trixie can’t see her reaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the 'unreliable narrator' tag is Real in this chapter, so buckle up.
> 
> thanks as always to my sweet friends, djoodigarland and DahliasForKatya in particular for their constant rabid cheerleading that's keeping this fic going. ily! <3
> 
> come say hi @ [crackerdyke](http://www.crackerdyke.tumblr.com) on tumblr, leave comments if you like what you read!

When Katya wakes up the next morning she doesn’t bother checking her phone, all too aware that it’s well before her alarm’s supposed to go off. She doesn’t spend too long lying in the dark, though, despite how early it is, just stays there a couple of minutes, and then she grabs her glasses, puts them on and slips out of bed.

She doesn’t spend too long stretching -- less time than usual, for sure -- and then she goes straight through to the kitchen. Today her cereal comes out onto the balcony with her, which involves a touch and go moment of balancing the bowl on the railings while she unfolds her chair, a brief second of panicking over whether someone could feasibly die from cereal falling on their head from a second-floor balcony, but she manages to make it back inside ten minutes later without any major incidents. Coffee comes into the shower, as usual, and when she’s dressed she heads over to the couch; ignores her notebook.

Instead she goes to the towering stack of books on the floor next to it, kneels down in front of it. She runs her fingers down the spines, considering each title. She goes back and forth a few times, debating between similar things, taking books out and replacing them when she second guesses herself. It’s important, she thinks, she needs to pick the right things. This is a chance to let Trixie see a little of who she is, and she wants to make sure that she sees the best of her.

Once she’s put the titles she’s chosen into her bag -- after discarding three others upon the realisation that taking Trixie an entire stack of books could possibly come across as a _little_ too much -- she swings it onto her back, carries her bike down the stairs. It’s earlier than she usually leaves, unless she’s going to yoga before work; the roads are a little quieter, the birds a little louder.

When she gets to the store, she’s the first one there, even earlier than Ginger. The cafe’s already open, but she doesn’t want to go in there, doesn’t want to risk seeing Trixie before she’s pulled herself together -- as much as she ever can pull herself together anyway, when it comes to Trixie. So she leans against the glass of the storefront, smokes two cigarettes while she waits for Ginger to show up so that she can go inside.

“What the hell are you doing here already?” Ginger asks when she finally arrives, finds Katya kneeling on the sidewalk in front of her open bag.

“I woke up early,” Katya says, doesn’t look up at her. She’s having second thoughts about her selections; wondering whether maybe she can go back and switch a couple if she goes quick, she’d just about make it back by the time the store opens.

“So you decided to camp out on the damn ground outside the store?” Ginger asks. Katya finally looks up and Ginger’s got her arms folded across her chest. She’s looking at Katya like she’s crazy. Maybe she’s not all that far off, she thinks.

“Are you going to let us in or just stand there?” she asks, picks up her bag again and hauls it over one shoulder.

“Bitch! What’s wrong with you?” Ginger says. She unlocks the door to the side of the storefront and Katya follows her in, goes straight to the counter while Ginger stops to end the alarm that started going off as soon as she opened the door. She lays out her books, drops her bag to the floor, and considers. Are they too similar? Would Trixie actually _want_ to read any of them? Maybe she’s being stupid, maybe it would be better to pretend to have forgotten about promising to recommend anything to her, tell her to just look at the tags around the store instead.  

She doesn’t want to, though, is the thing. She spent time picking them out, thought about what it seems like Trixie would like. She’s overthinking it, letting it build up and build up in her brain; she knows that she’s doing it, which makes it all the more frustrating.

“Hey,” Ginger says, her voice cutting through the whirlwind pace of Katya’s thoughts, “what’s going on with you? You’re acting weird. Weirder. You know what I mean.”

“I’m fine,” she says, shakes her head dismissively. Ginger makes a sceptical huffing noise, goes past her to wake up the computer -- stops when she sees the books Katya’s spread out.

“Oh, god. No, no. _No_. I’m not indulging this anymore, you’re disgusting,” she says, shakes her head and takes a step back, hands raised in dramatic surrender.

“What?”

“I’m not doing this with you. You’re not going to mope forever over her, I’m not putting up with it. How long did you spend picking all of these out for her?” she asks.

“I didn’t! I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Katya says, scowls and pushes her glasses up her nose, looks determinedly down at the desk in front of her.

“So you just brought these _books_ in? To the _bookstore_ ? Where we _work_? For no reason at all?” Ginger sounds painfully tired, and when Katya looks up at her she’s pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Maybe I decided to get rid of them,” she says, shrugs, tries to sound casual.

“Oh! Should I throw them out, then?” Ginger says, grabs two and stacks them together, reaches for a third.

“No!” Katya says in alarm, yanks at her hand.

“See! You’ve never thrown out a book in your life, you’re the worst liar!” Ginger says, drops the books back down onto the countertop.

“Why won’t you let me live?” Katya groans, draws the books towards her almost protectively.

“Because you’re being your usual, stupid self. I’m not putting up with you pining away for that girl. So, what’s it going to take for me to make you just ask her out? Do I need to threaten you with working Saturdays?” Ginger says.

 _Trixie works on Saturdays_ , Katya thinks.

“I’m not going to ask her out!” she says instead, because she has some semblance of self-preservation when it comes to dealing with Ginger. “I can work Saturdays. You don’t scare me.”

Ginger stepped towards her, leaning up on her toes and planting both hands on the counter.

“So help me god, I will make all the calls I need to to make sure that he comes to our shitty little store on his next book tour, and I will make sure that you’re working when he’s here,” she said, voice low and threatening.

“You wouldn’t,” Katya says, horrified.

“I will make sure that you, personally, have to deal with John Green and his crazy fangirls,” Ginger promised.

“You’re bluffing.”

“You wanna test me?”

“I’ll quit!”

“Please. Like you’d ever voluntarily leave this place,” Ginger scoffed.

“Like you’d risk it,” she counters.

“You’re bluffing.”

“ _You’re_ bluffing!”

“God! It’s too god damned early for this shit. Go, go get your coffee. Go take _these_ \--” Ginger gathers up Katya’s books, shoves them into her arms with a glare, “--and give them to your girl.”

“She’s not--”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ginger says before she can finish her protest. Katya opens her mouth again but Ginger puts up a hand in warning, glares at her in silence until she shuts it again. “Go,” she says, points to the door to the cafe.

There’s a silent stand off for a moment, she’s glaring at Ginger and Ginger’s still glaring right back and then Katya groans, sighs, shuffles the books in her arms a little until she’s sure she won’t drop any of them.

“I need a cigarette. I don’t get paid enough to deal with your shit this early,” Ginger grumbles, picks up her cigarettes and heads back out to the sidewalk. Katya watches her go, considers whether she could ditch the books in arms in the back somewhere without Ginger realising what she’s done. As if she knows exactly what Katya’s thinking, Ginger turns around outside, makes eye contact with her through the glass storefront. Her eyes narrow and she gestures between the two of them -- _I’m watching you, bitch_.

Sighing, Katya shifts the books carefully so that she can push her glasses up her nose, then makes her way towards the cafe. She knows Ginger won’t give up on pushing her: she’s just about the only person she knows whose stubborn streak rivals Katya’s own. If she at least goes and gives Trixie the books, she can maybe escape Ginger’s pestering for the day.

When she reaches the door between the store and the cafe, she has to juggle the books in her arms a little to push the handle down. She makes it through okay, but when she goes to balance the books better again there’s a sharp tug on her hair. She reaches back instinctively, feels her hair snagged in the clasp of her lanyard at the back of her neck. The lanyard itself is hooked around one of the books piled in her arms, and she hisses in pain as she tries to figure out which one she needs to move to free herself, if she can even manage it without dropping them all on the floor.

“Fucking bastard son of a fucking _bitch_ \--”

“Is everything okay?”

Katya cuts herself off from her surprised rant, feels her face set on fire in instant mortification at the sound of Trixie’s voice. She’s looking at Katya with her head cocked a little, a curious smile on her face. She’s kneeling on the floor, hands paused where she was restocking the bags of coffee by the counter, and when she comes up to standing Katya can see that her apron isn’t tied yet, hanging loose around her neck.

“I’m fine -- hi, good morning -- it’s just my hair, it’s fine. I’m fine,” she says. Trixie huffs out a little laugh, crosses the space between them. She moves around to stand behind her and before Katya can really think about what she’s going to do there are gentle fingers tugging a little on her hair, brushing over her neck. It’s like she can feel her touch all over her body, spreading out across her skin towards her extremities. She closes her eyes for a moment, bites her lip, grateful that Trixie can’t see her reaction.

“How the hell did you manage to do this?” Trixie asks, sounds amused even as she gently teases her hair free from the clasp.

“I have no idea,” Katya says miserably, sighs in relief when the pinch finally gives and Trixie steps away from her again. “Thanks,” she says, goes to rub the back of her neck but quickly stops when the books wobble in her arms.

“You need a hand?” Trixie asks, reaches out to help steady them. “What are you doing with those, anyway? Did you forget to put them down or something?”

“Hey, I’m not _that_ bad before coffee,” Katya says, smiles at the giggle it draws from Trixie. She takes her hand back once it’s clear Katya’s not about to drop an armful of books on the floor, tugs back the ties of her apron and deftly pulls them into a neat bow at her back, tight around her waist.

“Maybe. I take it you still want one, though?” she says, turning and heading towards the counter. There’s not too many people in the cafe yet, they’ve not quite reached the start of the morning rush yet -- Pearl’s half slumped against the counter, scrolling slowly through something on her phone.

“Of course,” Katya says, nodding. She sets her books down as soon as she can, letting them thump down onto the countertop right beside Pearl’s elbow. Pearl looks up, slowly, her gaze drifts over them and then up to focus on Katya; she gives her a lazy smile, then looks back at her phone.

“So, what’s with the books?” Trixie asks again, picks up two cups slotted together to make Katya her morning fix.

“Oh, um. They’re for you,” Katya says, rubs her neck now that she finally can without risking embarrassing herself any further. She can still remember what Trixie’s touch felt like; isn’t sure she’ll ever forget it.

“For me?” Trixie repeats, sets the cups down again and looks at her in surprise.

Katya kind of wants to sink through the floor. Has she forgotten? Maybe she didn’t think Katya was serious -- why on earth would she want to read this kind of stuff anyway? She feels like an idiot, wants to sweep the books away and pretend the whole thing never happened.

But she can’t do that, not with Trixie looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to respond to her like a well-adjusted normal human person instead of freezing in an internal freakout like -- well. Katya. 

So she says, “Like we talked about yesterday? I said I’d give you some recommendations.”

Trixie blinks at her, and for a second Katya’s sure she’s going to end up turning tail and escaping back to the sanctuary of the bookstore, Ginger’s wrath be damned, just to get away from having to decipher what Trixie’s expression means right now. She’s looking straight at Katya, hands braced on the counter in front of her, her gaze feels like a laser focus straight through to Katya’s soul. Katya swallows, wonders if she’s waiting for more of an explanation or something, if maybe she has no idea what Katya’s talking about.

But then Trixie smiles, finally breaks eye contact to look down at the books Katya set down.

“You work fast,” she says, traces her fingers over the spines of the books and then looks back up at her, her smile grown into a full blown grin. Katya shrugs, feels herself smile back at her; it’s part relief that Trixie didn’t actually totally forget their conversation, part an apparent inability to do anything else in the face of one of Trixie’s bright smiles.

“I had some extra time this morning,” she says. She’s toying with her lanyard where it’s hanging over her front, Trixie’s eyes drop down to her hands and she stops, suddenly conscious of what she’s doing. Her fingers are practically itching so she reaches up behind her, pulls her hair into a ponytail just for something to occupy them for a few seconds, tugs the elastic tie from around her wrist to hold it back. A few missed strands fall in front of her eyes and she tucks them behind her ears.

Trixie’s still watching her.

“If they’re no good, I can find other ones,” Katya says after a moment when Trixie hasn’t said anything, uncertainty creeping back in.

“What?” Trixie says, stares at her for a second longer before her eyes widen just a fraction, then she looks down at the books again. “Oh! No, these are great. Thank you. I -- wait, are these _yours_? Like, your actual copies? Not the store's?” she asks then, cuts herself off.

“Oh, well. Kind of? Some of them,” Katya says, shrugs as she watches Trixie run her fingers over the dogeared cover of the book on the top of the pile. “Most of them came from the store, we can borrow them, but… 

“You didn’t give them back?” Trixie guesses and Katya nods. “I didn’t realise I was dealing with a criminal.”

“Oh my god,” Pearl groans from next to Trixie. Trixie turns to glare at her, and she shrugs, waves her phone at her. “What? I read something dumb. Something about a _really bad_  attempt at flirting. Like, painfully bad.”

“Well, now that you’ve finished reading it, maybe you could actually, like, do your job? For two minutes?” Trixie suggests. Her voice sounds sweet as pie, but she’s still glaring at Pearl even though there’s a big smile plastered on her face.

“I mean, sure, if you’re really too lazy to make one cup of coffee…” Pearl trails off and shrugs, sets her phone down. Trixie makes a little irritated noise, then exhales long and slow, turns to look at Katy again.

“Sorry,” she says, looks back at the books between them as a smile spreads back across her face. “I, uh. I didn’t think you’d actually bring me a whole stack of books. I kind of thought you’d just give me a list or something. 

A list. Of course, a list, Katya thinks, that definitely would have been a much more low key response. Far more normal that dropping a whole pile of books in front of someone like an idiot.

“I can take them back with me if you want, sorry, I didn’t really think,” she starts, but Trixie shakes her head.

“No! No, it’s good, thank you. I appreciate it,” she says. She seems to hesitate a little, just for a second, then reaches across the counter, touches the back of Katya’s hand lightly where she’s gripping its edge. She hadn’t even realised she was doing it, and now Trixie’s warm fingertips are pressing into her skin.

Katya looks down at their hands. For a fleeting moment, she imagines turning hers over, pressing their palms together, closing her fingers around Trixie’s.

Then Trixie takes her hand back, carefully slips one of the books out of the pile. Katya flexes her fingers, then pulls her hand back to her side.

“This is the one you wrote your little tag thing yesterday about, right?” Trixie says, flipping it over to examine the back cover.

“Yeah. You said it sounded interesting,” Katya says. Trixie’s flipping through the pages now, the tips of her perfect pink fingernails tracing under a line here and there. Katya doesn’t think she’s ever seen her with so much as a chipped nail in all the time that she’s known her.

Trixie looks back up after a second, lets the book close and sets it back down on top of the rest. “As long as you know it’s on your head if it turns out to be bad,” she warns her, looks deadly serious. Katya blinks and then Trixie’s expression cracks into a smile and they’re both laughing.

“Can you take this and get out of here? It’s too early in the morning to deal with all the flirting,” Pearl says, voice raised a little over the sound of their obnoxious laughter. Katya’s jaw snaps shut and she looks at Pearl with wide eyes. She’s holding her coffee out towards her, and when Katya snatches it from her hands it’s hot, too hot, she’s not used to it without its protective double layer anymore. She barely cares; she just wants to get out of the cafe, totally mortified by Pearl calling her out like that.

“See you later! Thanks for the books!” Trixie says as she leaves, Katya hears her sigh. “Pearl, you’re the worst person I’ve ever met,” she says when Katya’s at the door, already gripping the handle to open it. She sounds exasperated. Katya doesn’t blame her.

 

 ***

 

Trixie barely ever works Sundays. Katya can’t imagine that she has a lot of time off during the rest of the week, between working at the cafe and the internship that seems to run her ragged from the way she talks about it. Sundays are the only days she has free every week, as far as Katya knows; she’s always a little chirpier than usual on Mondays, refreshed from a day off.

So Katya isn’t prepared to hear Trixie’s voice in the store on a quiet Sunday afternoon. It’s not long until closing and things are winding down: Ginger’s texting under the counter, Max is fretting over the fiction displays, and she’s trying to keep herself busy reshelving any strays she comes across on a slow sweep around the entire store.

“You know what to say, right? You’re not going to be an idiot?” a voice says behind her, so familiar, in a loud whisper.

“Of course not. Especially when you make it so easy to want to help you -- threatening me, calling me an idiot--”

“Shut up, idiot. Oh, there -- Katya!”

Katya turns around when she realises that, no, it isn’t just that the person talking behind her happens to sound like Trixie, she’s actually there, in the store on her day off.

And this, Katya realises as she takes her in, this is Trixie _,_  the _real_  Trixie instead of  _Trixie at work_ \-- this is how she is outside of the store. Her hair is bigger, curls neater and held in place with a bow by her ear; her makeup is more intricate, eyeliner a little bigger and the eyeshadow around it more colourful -- but her pink lips are exactly the same as always.

They’re not the only thing pink. Pink dress, frilly sleeves trimmed with lace, pink boots that make Katya’s lips twitch up into a smile. It’s all very pink, and it’s all very Trixie.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, straightens up from where she was crouched in front of her little parapsychology section, making sure everything was still in order. It always is, it’s a criminally underappreciated section, but she still likes to check in on it.

“Oh, um. I left my charger in the break room yesterday,” Trixie says, gestures to her (pink, of course) purse hanging off one shoulder. “Kim, this is Katya. Katya, Kim,” she adds, gesturing to the girl beside her. “My roommate." 

“Hi,” Katya says, gets a nod in response. She’s heard a little about Kim from Trixie: that she’s Trixie’s best friend, that she does something to do with makeup, that she goes way back with Shea and introduced them to help Trixie get the job in the cafe.

“I can’t believe you’re wearing that on the day I’m not working. Do you save up your problem patterns for when you know I’m going to be around?” Trixie asks, smiling. Katya blinks at her, looks down at her shirt. It’s too big, half tucked into her tight jeans and half hanging loose where it’s tugged free over the course of the day.

“You can’t possibly be trying to claim that that’s not a problem pattern,” Kim says, disbelief clear in her voice. Katya looks back at them, doesn’t say anything. She's never met her before so maybe Katya should be offended, but it's not like Kim’s wrong -- maybe Katya’s not the best judge, but she thinks the mustard yellow streaks on a pink button up definitely constitute a problem pattern.

“Any pattern that’s pink can’t be a problem pattern. Don’t look at me like that, I don’t make the rules,” Trixie says, shrugs when Kim stares at her.

“You’re delusional,” Kim says, makes Trixie laugh that ridiculous screech laugh. Katya turns back to the shelves, bends over to pick up the books she’s left on the floor.

“Trix.”

“Hm?” Trixie’s voice is quiet, she sounds distracted.

“Trixie!”

“Ow! What’s wrong with you?”

“You’re staring.”

“Shut up. Are you gonna…?”

When Katya straightens up and turns around again, Trixie’s rubbing her side. She’s looking at Kim, eyebrows raised; Kim’s looking right back, Katya can’t figure out her expression.

“How’s your free day going?” Katya asks when there’s a moment of silence a little too long to be comfortable. Trixie looks back at her and smiles again.

“Good! We’re meeting up friends later, I’m not sure what the plan is yet, though. I wanted to go rollerskating, but Naomi doesn’t like it and Kim always sides with Naomi." 

“I don’t always side with her!”

“Yes you do, because you want--”

“Rollerskating is the worst,” Kim cuts in. “That’s why I’d side with her.”

“Sure it is. God, you’re such an idiot,” Trixie says, rolls her eyes at her. She glances back at Katya, then at Kim again. Clears her throat. Kim sighs. 

“You know, um. You could come along, if you want to? It’ll be fun. No rollerskating,” Kim says to Katya. She sounds a little stilted, like she’s rehearsed her words, almost, but Katya thinks it might be the combination of the lisp and the accent.

“Me? Oh...no, it’s good. I’m good, I’m busy,” Katya says, shakes her head. The last thing she wants is to take them up on what was clearly some kind of pity offer; Trixie’s proving that with the way she’s glaring at Kim. 

“Really? Kim wasn’t selling it well, and there’s still a chance rollerskating will win out over whatever boring artsy shit Naomi wants to do,” she says, looking back at Katya. Katya gives her a little smile, shakes her head again. 

“Really, it’s fine. I haven’t been to yoga all week, I promised myself I’d go tonight.”

“As long as you’re sure,” Trixie says, glares at Kim again. Kim shrugs and Trixie sighs. Katya wonders briefly if she’s angry at Kim for inviting her, but she has to snap a lid tight on that thought to stop herself from dying of humiliation on the spot. 

“I am. Have fun, though. I hope you get to go skating,” Katya says. Trixie probably looks cute as hell in rollerskates. She’d like to see it.

“Thanks,” Trixie says, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have fun at yoga.” For a second, Katya thinks there’s a flicker of disappointment in Trixie’s eyes. Then it’s gone, and she’s grabbing Kim’s arm, leading her out of the store like a child about to be scolded.

“See? I told you that was a terrible idea,” Kim whispers.

“It’s not the idea that was terrible, it was you! Could you really not have mustered up, like, the tiniest amount of enthusiasm? You sounded like a depressed robot, I’m never trusting you to help me ever again.”

“What a shame. I’m absolutely devastated.”

Katya’s glad she’s turned back towards the shelves again, she can feel her face flushing hot with embarrassment at their bickering as they walk away from her. Trixie sounds so annoyed, and Katya can’t blame her for being angry at Kim for going rogue and asking Trixie’s weird co-worker to come out with them. For a moment she considers all the stories Trixie must have told her: Katya drinking burning hot coffee, Trixie having to untangle her hair for her, getting called out by Pearl for being painfully stupid over her.  Maybe Kim got a real kick out of inviting her just to see Trixie’s reaction. No wonder Trixie’s pissed at her now. 

 _See?_ she thinks to herself, _she didn’t want you there._

She tries not to dwell as she finishes reshelving, tries to focus on the positives. She doesn’t think she made a total fool of herself in front of Trixie today, even though she took her by surprise, turning up on her day off. And she doesn’t have too long now until close; there’s never a lot to do at the end of a Sunday shift, since it’s usually dead by the end of the day, which means she can get away pretty quickly. She really should go to yoga, she wasn’t lying when she said she hadn’t been all week. She always feels a little better after a class, and she needs good feelings today.

Fifteen minutes before the store closes, Pearl appears, cigarette already dangling from her lips.

“You want to go for a break now?” Katya asks skeptically. Pearl shrugs.

“Shea said I was annoying her and to leave her in peace, so why not?” she says. Katya considers, looks at Ginger, who’s still tapping away at her phone, though it’s no longer hidden under the counter since they haven’t had a customer in at least twenty minutes.

“Alright, sure,” she says. Pearl gives her a dopey grin.

“Hey, did you see Trixie? I thought I saw her walking past the front just now,” she says. Katya raises an eyebrow at her as she grabs her cigarettes.

“Do you really not take in anything that happens in here? She said she came into the cafe to get her phone charger,” she tells Pearl.

“What?”

“Yeah, she left it in the break room yesterday.”

“I didn’t see anything left in the break room this morning,” Pearl says. She’s looking at her like she doesn’t have a clue what Katya’s talking about, and Katya huffs out a laugh. 

“Pearl, you’re so fucking oblivious.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The store is rarely busy around closing time – they’re not in a particularly busy part of town and not a lot of people come in late, so she doesn’t have to handle any lingering customers, which is nice. It doesn’t take long to deal with the registers and take the cash back to the safe, and then all that’s left to do is a last sweep of the store before she can leave. It’s nice when it’s quiet, some of the lights turned off already and the doors through to the back of the store shut and locked up. Katya doesn’t mind it really; she kind of enjoys the peacefulness of walking around the main floor when it’s late, checking that there isn’t anything that needs tidying away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: the first five chapters of this were originally supposed to all be part of the same first chapter. once i started writing it properly i realised i really needed to split it; since it took over 20k words to get to this point, i think that was a good decision!
> 
> thanks as always to all of my pals, you're all great. special thanks to [djoodigarland](http://archiveofourown.org/users/djoodigarland) and [DahliasForKatya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dahliasforkatya) for helping me figure out how to unfold the plot in this chapter (i know, right? who knew there was actually going to be a plot to this fic), to [matilda_queen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/matilda_queen) for her constant cheerleading, and [getfuckedbrenda](http://getfuckedbrenda.tumblr.com) over on tumblr for prompting an entire section of this chapter. finally, a huge, huge (belated, i'm sorry ily) happy birthday to [i-flood-my-basement](http://i-flood-my-basement.tumblr.com) on tumblr, who is truly one of the sweetest people i've ever talked to. i hope you had the lovely day you deserve, and that maybe you managed to find time to finally rewatch overboard! <3
> 
> anyway, i hope you all enjoy! come say hi @[crackerdyke](http://www.crackerdyke.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you want to, and leave a comment if you like what you read!

“Katya, can you finish looking through these for me? I meant to go on break twenty minutes ago but it’s taking me longer than I thought. I don’t mind waiting, you know I don’t, but I really want to check my phone today.” Max’s voice cuts into the quiet of the store and Katya looks up from where she’s sitting on the floor in front of true crime. She’d been setting out the new stock that came in earlier and paused to leaf through one of the new titles that caught her eye, but a glance at her watch lets her know that that was at least twenty minutes ago; she’s almost through the second chapter.

It’s fine -- today hasn’t been busy. She’s not a totally terrible employee; she’d have noticed if there was actually something more pressing for her to deal with. She knows how to work this job by now. It’d be pretty sad if she didn’t after this long, after all.  

“Yeah, of course,” she says, folds over the very corner of the page and closes the book, tucks it under her arm so that she can stow it away under the counter to retrieve on her way home later. “Waiting to hear from someone special?” she asks Max, a teasing smile tugging at the side of her mouth. Max is still fairly new, their latest college student to pick up a part time job at the beginning of the semester. She’s sweet enough, not quite as quiet and removed as Dax, who Katya still knows next to nothing about even after years of working together, but she hasn’t thrown herself into the dynamic of the store like Violet did from practically her first shift with them. It’s not a bad thing, though: Katya’s not sure that they could have handled having another Violet around. 

“No!” Max says quickly, she’s so prim and proper sometimes and always gets embarrassed as soon as any kind of personal topic comes up, it drives Ginger insane and brings out a wicked kind of glee in Violet, and Katya finds it funny but also endearing. She thinks a lot of it’s a front, an attempt to be a good employee and avoid becoming a target for any kind of invasive questioning; it’ll be interesting to see whether they ever get to see any more of her underneath the wall’s she’s putting up. She tries so hard at her job, always shows up early and stays late to help if she thinks she needs to. She was probably dithering for a while just now, trying to decide if she could ask Katya to take over what she’s doing so she could take her break, just in case it’d make a bad impression. Katya remembers being like that when she started, too, until she got used to Thorgy showing up late almost every day and then spending most of the day rambling about anything and everything without doing any work at all, Tammie existing solely in her own little universe, Ginger groaning about how awful the store was and how soon she’d be getting out of there. Ginger keeps things a little more organised than Thorgy did, but it’s still a fairly chilled out place to work, so hopefully Max will relax into it at some point.

“I’m not gonna snitch on you to Violet if you’ve got a boyfriend or something,” Katya says, watching Max’s pale cheeks get pinker and pinker.

“No, really, it’s not that. The grades for a paper from one of my classes should be up by now, so I want to check how I did,” Max explains, tucks a poker straight lock of her silver hair behind her ear.

“Then go! I’m fine here,” Katya says, waves her away with a hand. Max still looks hesitant, doesn’t move towards the back until Katya raises an eyebrow at her. 

“I won’t be long,” she promises when she finally walks away from the counter.

“It’s your break! You don’t need to rush back,” Katya says, amused.

It’s quiet once Max is gone, there are a couple of customers roaming around but they look content to browse, so Katya doesn’t bother them. Instead she goes through the list of new stock they had in today that Max had already started looking at, makes sure that everything’s been put out where it should be. It’s pretty much just busy work, but on a slow day she doesn’t mind it if it keeps her occupied.

When she’s finished with today’s new books, she picks up next week’s, just out of interest. If there’s something popular that she wants to read coming in, she likes to make a note of it so that she can make sure she can grab a copy for herself before they start running out of free ones.

Katya’s leaning forward against the counter, elbow resting on its top and her chin propped up on one hand, just skimming through the list. There isn’t too much that seems interesting, but then she stops at one title that catches her eye. She stared at it for a second, taps a fingertip against it on the paper, than pulls the keyboard for the computer that sits beside the register towards her. A quick search leads her to amazon, a smile growing on her face as she reads over the details. She grabs a marker from the collection of pens littering the shelf under the counter, circles the title of the book, then folds the sheet of paper in half and puts it aside.

It feels like it takes forever for Max to come back from her break even though she appears with at least another five minutes left. Katya grabs the paper, steps back from the counter.

“I finished going through the new stock. Are you good here? I’m going on break,” she tells her. Max looks surprised, which makes sense. Katya doesn’t usually take her morning break until Pearl comes looking for her so that they can go for a smoke together.

“Sure, that’s fine,” Max says, and Katya heads straight for the cafe. It’s Shea’s day off, and the only person behind the counter is Pearl. She’s picking polish off her nails, slumped over the counter while a few people sit at the tables by the window.

“You’re early,” Pearl says when she finally looks up, sweeps chips of polish off the countertop.

“Is Trixie around?” Katya replied, firmly ignores Pearl’s smirk and the way her eyes light up.

“She took her break, she’s in the back,” she tells her.

“You think I can go see her?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not,” Pearl says, shrugging. “Knock yourself out.” She still has that infuriatingly smug expression on her face but Katya refuses to engage with her, just nods and weaves around the counter to go through the door at the back of the cafe that leads to the break room.

Trixie’s there, as promised.

Except she’s not wearing a shirt. 

“Oh, fuck!” Katya says, spins around immediately so that she’s facing away from her. “I’m so sorry,” she says, fumbling to find the right words. “I -- I’m sorry -- Pearl said you were -- I didn’t think!”

It’d probably be a lot easier to form a coherent sentence if she could stop thinking about what she’s just seen for a moment. But she has the image of Trixie in front of her burned into her brain: full breasts threatening to spill out of her pink bra, the waistband of her skirt biting into her soft stomach right where her waist curves in. She squeezes her eyes shut, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose just under the frame of her glasses.

Behind her, Trixie’s giggling.

“It’s okay. Katya, it’s fine! Someone spilled their drink on me so I came to change my shirt, Pearl keeps a spare in her locker,” she says, sounds more amused than annoyed or upset.

Maybe Trixie’s not angry that Katya walked in on her half naked, but it doesn’t change the fact that _Katya walked in on her half naked_. Katya doesn’t think she’ll ever get over it.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats, still rooted to the spot.

“You can turn around, idiot,” Trixie says, snorts with laughter. When Katya does, a little tentatively, she’s got a fresh shirt on, fingers deftly doing up the buttons over her stomach. The fabric pulls more and more the higher she gets until she can hardly tug both halves of the shirt together, cleavage straining against the material.

Katya realises she’s staring, takes a reactionary step back, just to put a little distance between them so she feels less like a creep. Desperate for something to do she takes her glasses off, pinches together the fabric of her dress over the lenses to clean them, paper tucked under her arm.

“You look so different without your glasses on,” Trixie says, and Katya looks up at her again, tries to focus on her blurry figure. Trixie giggles again, Katya can imagine how silly she looks, all squinty, and she hastily pushes her glasses back on. It’s probably a mistake: Trixie’s given up on trying to do her shirt up any further, leaving her chest exposed. Katya swallows, forces herself to meet Trixie’s gaze and finds a smirk pulling at one side of her mouth, pretty brown eyes twinkling with amusement. “I probably should have guessed that borrowing a shirt from Pearl wouldn’t work out. Skinny bitch,” she says, sighing dramatically, plucks at the fabric by the abandoned buttons.

“I think there’s some spares around here somewhere,” Katya manages to say, eyes flitting between Trixie’s hand and her eyes.

“Hopefully ones made to fit those of us who aren’t the size of a twig so that I don’t have to be totally inappropriate,” Trixie says, undoes the buttons on the lower half of the shirt and shrugs it off her shoulders. Katya turns around again quickly, blushes at the huff of laughter she hears from Trixie when she does.

“They might be out in the cafe somewhere, I don’t know where Shea keeps them. Want me to go look?”

“Please,” Trixie says gratefully. Katya nods, glad for the opportunity to get some space from Trixie in all her shirtless glory.

When she gets back outside the break room, Katya leans against the wall and exhales long and slow, takes a minute to recover. Trixie’s still in there in her ridiculous lacy bra, and she didn’t even seem the tiniest bit bothered by Katya being there. Which, yeah, makes sense, given that Trixie looks like she does. Katya can picture her pretty curves immediately, skin that looks so soft. She can only imagine what it would feel like to touch her, let her hands slide around her waist, down to her hips, press her lips to the freckled skin under the line of her bra. It’s...a lot. Katya needs to pull herself together before she can face Trixie again.

“Did you find her?” Pearl asks with a grin when Katya finally gets back out into the cafe.

“I hate you. Where do you keep the extra shirts?” she asks, kneeling down by Pearl’s side to rummage through the storage space.

“I told her she could wear my spare.”

“Yeah, because you two are totally the same size.” 

“Oh, right. Jugs,” Pearl says, nodding. Katya squeezes her eyes shut for a second, trying to escape the mental image of Trixie waiting for her in the break room, still shirtless. She shakes her head, opens her eyes again and finally opens a box to find a few musty shirts. She pauses, considers trying to pick out one that’ll fit Trixie before realising that can only end with her embarrassing herself completely, and picks up the whole box. 

“I think you’re the worst person I’ve ever met,” she tells Pearl, shifting the box to rest on her hip so she can open the door to the back. 

“You realise Shea and Trixie say shit like that to me all the time, right? You need to step it up if you wanna try to drag me,” Pearl says.

“And _you_ realise you just dragged yourself better than I ever could, right?” Katya echoes, shakes her head when Pearl just shrugs.

When she gets back into the break room, Trixie’s tapping away on her phone, still apparently unfazed by just hanging out in her bra. When the door clicks shut behind Katya she looks up, sets her phone down on the inside of her locker and smiles at her.

“Oh! You found them, thank you,” she says, reaches out to take the box from Katya. Her eyes widen in surprise at its weight and she almost drops it, Katya’s quick to brace her hands on Trixie’s forearms to keep it up. “How the hell are shirts this heavy? Damn, you’re strong,” she says, maybe Katya’s imagining it but it kind of sounds like there’s a hint of appreciation in her words, while Katya’s fingers tighten their hold on her arms to keep her steady. She realises just how close she is to her, she can see all the freckles on Trixie’s shoulders and her arms, where they’re scattered across her chest all the way down to the edge of her bra. 

“Yoga,” she says by way of explanation, helps Trixie set the box down on the small table in the corner. 

“Maybe I need to start going to yoga,” Trixie says, grinning, “get my fitness journey started.” Katya laughs, imagines Trixie next to her in her yoga classes, clad in all pink, of course, probably with a bright pink yoga mat.

She likes the thought of that, Trixie by her side.

“What’s up, anyway?” Trixie asks, picking out one of the shirts from the box and pulling it on. She manages to button it snugly over her chest, and Katya’s torn; she can’t pretend she didn’t enjoy the view, but at least she can look at Trixie without feeling embarrassed now. Well, any more embarrassed than she usually ends up feeling around her, anyway. “Katya?” Trixie prompts again, and Katya blinks at her.

“What?”

Trixie’s smile is indulgent, a little fond. “You said Pearl told you I was back here. Were you looking for me?” she asks. It takes Katya a second to remember why she came looking for Trixie in the first place, and then she grabs the sheet of paper that’s been tucked under her arm the last five minutes, unfolds it.

“I was looking at the new releases we’ve got coming in next week, and I saw this one and thought of you,” she says, feels a little silly to be admitting it until she sees the blinding smile on Trixie’s face. 

“Oh yeah? What is it?” Trixie asks, reaches to take the paper from her. Her fingers brush against Katya’s and Katya doesn’t let go for the briefest moment, lets the contact stretch out. When Trixie looks down at the line Katya highlighted before, she lets out a soft little chuckle.

“I have broader interests than just Dolly Parton, you know, despite what Pearl likes to say,” she says, and Katya feels her face heat up, starts stuttering out a response. Then Trixie laughs, loud and boisterous, grabs Katya’s arm tight right by her elbow. “I’m kidding! I’m a slut for Dolly and everyone knows it,” she says through her laughter.

“You’re such a bitch, oh my god,” Katya says, laughs along with her; she does her best not to move, not to prompt Trixie to take her hand away. She pulls it back as her laughter dies down, though, looking at the piece of paper again. 

“No, really, thank you, I love reading all the shit they write about her. And, like, gender and country music? Oh honey, that’s a fucking wormhole I can’t wait to get sucked into.”

“Like Jodie Foster?”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Katya says quickly, shakes her head. Trixie raises an eyebrow at her and she moves on quickly before she has to explain her obscure reference. “I read one of the author’s other books a few years back about reality shows. It was really interesting, so hopefully she knows as much about country music.”

“Oh, awesome. Did you say you could keep stuff aside when it comes in?” Trixie asks, and Katya nods. “And, uh -- I don’t, uh…” Trixie trails off and Katya realises what she’s trying to ask.

“You don’t need to buy it, it’s fine,” she assures her, gets a grateful smile in response.

“Cool, thank you. And thanks for the shirt,” she says, gestures to it like Katya needs reminding that she was half naked in front of her just minutes before.

“No problem,” Katya says, focusing on Trixie’s eyes to avoid letting herself picture the sight all over again. Trixie’s still smiling at her, fiddling with the edge of the sheet of paper in her hands. 

“Trixie!” The sound of Pearl yelling from outside the room startles Katya, but Trixie just rolls her eyes. “Trixie, it doesn’t take this long to change your shirt, I want to take my break.” 

“I’m actually going to kill her one day,” Trixie deadpans, all long suffering.

“I’ll help you hide the body,” Katya agrees, thinks of the smirk on Pearl’s face as she sent Katya back to find Trixie in the break room.

“See you later?”

“Sure, I’ll come by for lunch,” Katya promises.

“Trixie!” Pearl yells again, and Trixie grumbles under her breath and goes to the door. 

“Thanks for this!” she says, waves the paper at her and then she’s gone. Katya’s left alone in the break room, with only Trixie’s abandoned shirt and the mental image of her lacy pink bra burned into her memory.  
  


***

  
Katya’s never had any kind of ambition when it comes to working in the store. Then again, she’d never thought that Ginger felt any differently in the first few years she spent working with her, listening to her groan and complain about the job and how she was going to quit as soon as she could, how as soon as she got a role in something that’d pay her bills she’d be handing in her notice and celebrating, that was what she’d always told Katya. And then Thorgy had left to move back into the city and they’d needed a new manager, and Ginger had somehow found just enough ambition to wind up with the job.

“Whatever, bitch, it’s worth it for the money,” she’d told Katya when she’d raised an eyebrow at the news, shrugged off all of Katya’s playful digs and waved her paycheck in her face when she got her first one as manager.

It’s more than just the paycheck, of course, and they both know that. Ginger gets a kick out of being in charge, getting to tell people when to take their breaks and what they need to do, especially when it’s Violet or Max, any of the college kids they’ve had pass through the store over the years.

She never tries it with Katya, knows it wouldn’t fly. They’ve always been equals: they’re similar ages and come from not too different backgrounds, have worked in the store together for so long that it’s not like Ginger knows anything more about it than she does. And Katya’s good at her job, doesn’t need chasing up like some of the others do. So when something comes up for Ginger, an audition or an early rehearsal for whatever production she’s doing, it’s always Katya she can count on to cover her at the store.

Even though she’s always up early, rarely gets to work much later than Ginger has to to open up, she prefers closing to opening the store. There’s more to do when she’s opening up, setting everything up with the rest of the day still looming ahead of her; at least with closing once she’s done she can head home. Tonight Ginger’s rushed off to some last minute audition she got a call about earlier in the day, Violet left just after they closed and so Katya’s sorting everything out before she goes home. She’ll have to drop the keys over to Ginger’s place tonight or make sure she gets there before her in the morning, but neither option is particularly difficult. Ginger’s a good friend, and she doesn’t mind helping her out. There’s never too much to do at the end of the day, especially since Katya normally hangs around for a while after they close to make sure everything’s ready for the next day, anyway.

The store is rarely busy around closing time -- they’re not in a particularly busy part of town and not a lot of people come in late, so she doesn’t have to handle any lingering customers, which is nice. It doesn’t take long to deal with the registers and take the cash back to the safe, and then all that’s left to do is a last sweep of the store before she can leave. It’s nice when it’s quiet, some of the lights turned off already and the doors through to the back of the store shut and locked up. Katya doesn’t mind it really; she kind of enjoys the peacefulness of walking around the main floor when it’s late, checking that there isn’t anything that needs tidying away.

So Katya straightens a few displays, replaces some books left out on the chairs and little side tables by the shelves; there’s nothing too major that needs taking care of, which is good. She spots something on the floor over by the doorway through to the cafe, crouches down to pick up some folded sheets of paper. She opens them up as she walks back to the counter; the first couple of pages are blank and she’s about to throw them in the trash without another thought when she comes to a page covered in scribbled out writing. It’s a familiar enough sight to put a wry smile on her face.

She flips over the sheet and finds more scribbled out lines, but there are words left clear in between. It’s not a lot: a few phrases here and there, little rhyming couplets. She skims her fingertips over the words, drifting across the indents where pen’s pressed into paper, wondering who wrote them and how they ended up on the floor of the book store. Maybe the person decided to ditch them, or maybe they dropped them when they were passing through, maybe they’ve been frantically looking through their pockets and their purse to find them, totally bereft, maybe they’ll think to check back in at the store tomorrow. Katya can’t throw them out, just in case.

Whoever it is, they’re a good writer. It seems like some kind of poetry, or song lyrics, maybe, something heartfelt and slow. She’s leaning against the side of the counter now, its edge digging into her spine and her knees bent a little as she flips to the next page.

_Living’s s’posed to kill you,_

_but it shouldn’t feel like dyin’..._

Katya pauses. Reads the lines over again, and then again; sinks down against the counter until she’s sat on the floor, clutching the paper in both hands. There’s sections scribbled out around the words that are left, little question marks and scribbles in the margin of the page like whoever wrote them was trying to figure out where to go with them, what needs to come next.

Katya knows what needs to come next.

She reaches up, fumbles to snatch one of the pens from the countertop and struggles to click it open in her haste, and then she’s writing. It’s like all of the words that have been floating around in her brain all this time are finally ready to spill out and her hand’s cramping almost immediately but she can’t stop, lets every thought she’s been trying and failing to put down for all this time tumble out onto the paper. It feels like an amazing blur, watching her own familiar spidery handwriting fly across the page as she tries to keep up with her brain, too afraid to pause for fear of losing her momentum. There’s some kind of immediate connection between the words she’s been trying to understand in her own mind and what’s in front of her, the beautiful phrases caught in between scratched out lines, and maybe it’s a little strange but if it’s helping her figure out all of the ideas she’s been bottling up for months and months and months she’s not going to question it right now.

Katya doesn’t stop writing until the words start to get fainter and fainter, and then the pen gives up altogether. She realises she’s used up almost all of the blank sheets of paper she found, written all over the sheet with the words on that sparked this frenzy in the first place. She lifts her head and her neck is sore, back aching where it’s been pressed against the hard side of the counter. She realises with a jolt that it’s dark outside, the kind of dark that means it’s almost night, that she doesn’t normally get a glimpse of until well after she gets home, even in fall. Her fingers are covered in smudges of dark ink and her legs are stiff when she stands up, steadies herself with a hand on the counter.

She doesn’t care. She sets the papers down in front of her, looks at them in awe.

It’s an actual poem. Sure, it’s not perfect, probably a long way off from the best stuff she’s written in the past, it definitely needs a lot of tidying up and re-writing before she can figure out how she feels about it, but it’s been so long since she’s actually managed to write more than a few words that it feels amazing to just have something down on paper. It’s a rush, a thrill; it doesn’t matter that she’s still at the store two hours after closing.

She fumbles to find the page that inspired the entire thing, tucked in behind the sheet she was writing on. The words still stand out, make her bite her lip as she considers them.

She has no idea who wrote them, but she figures she probably owes them a whole lot of gratitude.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katya carefully avoids looking at Trixie again as she shoves her backpack into her locker. She shrugs off her jacket and puts that in too, pauses to push up the sleeves to her dress towards her elbows once her locker door’s shut. She glances up, sees Trixie watching her hands. Her gaze flickers up over arm, then to her eyes, just for a moment, and then she’s setting her drink down on the inside of her locker, pulling her purse towards her to rummage through it. 
> 
> “I like your dress,” Trixie says, voice echoing a little around the small space of her locker. 
> 
> “Thanks,” Katya says, rolls one of the sleeves up high on her forearm before pushing the other one up to match. “It has a pocket,” she adds, because it’s one of her favourite dresses for that very reason, then feels dumb for saying it. 
> 
> “Oh, I love that!” Trixie says, looks up from her purse to grin at her and Katya relaxes again at her enthusiasm. “It’s so handy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone who's left such lovely comments and send me wonderful messages about this fic! the reaction to it has completely blown me away, and i'm so grateful for all of the kind words and encouragement! 
> 
> special thanks to [matilda_queen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/matilda_queen) and [djoodigarland](http://archiveofourown.org/users/djoodigarland) for letting me whine to them when writer's block hit me hard on this chapter, and, as always, to [DahliasForKatya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dahliasforkatya) for being my number one cheerleader this whole time. y'all are the best!
> 
> enjoy! come say hi @[crackerdyke](http://www.crackerdyke.tumblr.com) on tumblr, and leave a comment if you like the chapter!

Katya wakes up to the sound of her alarm blaring at her side, eyes snapping open and hands fumbling to grab her phone and shut off the annoying noise. She can’t remember the last time she slept this late, doesn’t even have enough time to try to wake up a little more before she has to roll out of bed, shoving her glasses onto her face as she stumbles out to the kitchen. 

She’s not sure what time she actually fell asleep last night, how long she spent huddled on the couch, writing and writing and writing until she wasn’t sure she was ever going to stop. It had only been once her eyes started closing even as the words continued to spill out across the page that she finally had to give up, abandoning her notebook and the folded sheets of paper she’d taken from the store and falling into bed. 

She doesn’t even have time to unfold her chair and take her time with her morning cigarette, switching between taking a sip of scalding coffee and a lungful of smoke while she leans her hip against the balcony railings. Her shower time gets cut down as short as possible once she remembers that she still has the keys to the store, all plans to drop them off at Ginger’s place last night abandoned in the wake of the sudden return of her inspiration. She needs to leave even earlier than usual – of course she does on the one day she manages to sleep all the way through until her alarm. It’s not a big deal, it’s not like Ginger normally gets there a whole lot earlier than Katya does, but she isn’t used to having to rush through her morning routine, cutting corners just so that she can make it out of the door in time to meet Ginger in front of the store.

“What happened to you last night? I thought you were going to drop the keys back after you locked up,” Ginger says while Katya locks her bike up, tucks the key into the pocket of her dress – she’d snagged her favourite one from the dresser, felt it was the right day to wear it given her success the night before. She's lighting a cigarette and when she’s done Katya takes the lighter from her hand. 

“I was busy,” she says, shrugs and once she has own cigarette in her mouth and a lungful of smoke she hands the lighter back to Ginger along with the keys to the store. “You're welcome, by the way. You know, for doing your job for you.”

“You're never busy,” Ginger says, ignores Katya’s comment and gives her a look that's full of suspicion. 

“Last night I was. How was the audition?” Katya asks. 

The distraction works and Ginger shrugs, says, “Same as always. Not the right fit, there might be a place for me in the chorus. Probably some shitty background role for the big bitch so everyone can get a few cheap laughs here and there.” 

“I'm sorry.” 

“It's nothing new. Maybe I should pack it in, resign myself to working in this place with you until we’re both old and wrinkly and can't remember where anything goes anymore,” Ginger says with a dramatic sigh. Katya snorts. 

“You don't know where anything is now, you wouldn't even remember where the store is if you stayed here until you're old.” 

“Bitch! I _know_ where things are, I just don't _care_. That's the trick to it, that's how you get Max to do your work for you, pretend you don’t know what’s going on and she’ll jump right to it,” Ginger says, crosses her arms across her chest and taps the ash from her cigarette onto the sidewalk by her feet.

“Management changed you,” Katya says with a grin, and Ginger throws her head back and laughs. “Maybe not,” she decides, tips her head a little, “you've always been a rotted cunt.”

“Why do you think we’re best friends?” Ginger says and Katya can't help but screech, Ginger’s chuckling to herself as she stubs out her cigarette.

“Who says we’re best friends?” Katya replies, wraps a hand around her own elbow where she’s holding her cigarette in front of her mouth. Ginger squints at her. 

“What’s on your hand?” she asks, gestures to the side of Katya’s wrist. She glances down, sees dark ink smudged across her skin. 

“Oh. Ink, I guess,” Katya says, lost for a good explanation. Ginger blinks at her. 

“Yeah, no kidding. Why is your hand covered in ink? Don’t you shower?”

“Shut the fuck up! I had to shower quick this morning so that I could get the keys here in time for you to open up. You know, since I did your job for you last night. Remember?” Katya says, gives her a pointed look before stubbing her cigarette out against the outside wall of the store.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ginger says, waves a hand and the store keys jangle where they’re dangling from her fingers. “Are you coming in the back with me? Or do you want me to come let you in?”

“I’ll come in with you,” Katya says, decides that she’ll have to give up any hope of Ginger actually acknowledging the favour Katya did for her. It’s not like she really minds, especially given how her night ended up. 

She’s still reeling a little from the night before. It’s kind of a blur, all of her memories just flashes of feverishly writing out word after word that spilled out of her so easily, the floodgates finally busted open after so many painful evenings and early mornings staring at blank pages, willing the words to cooperate. There had been no need to will them into existence last night, and her fingers are itching for a pen even now; she’s sure that if she got the opportunity right now she’d be able to write and write and write until someone physically stopped her. It’s exhilerating, even though she’s not looking forward to a whole day of work ahead without any chance to write. She could write over lunch, maybe, but that would involve taking herself off somewhere instead of spending her usual hour with Trixie in the café. She wants to write, but not at the expense of her time with Trixie. 

It’s almost as if thinking about her somehow manages to summon her. Ginger’s just led the way into the back entrance to the store, and Katya’s hovering behind her as she waits for her to let them into the main floor when Trixie appears from the back of the café, nudging the door open with her hip. One hand is clutching a large iced something-or-other, Katya couldn’t even begin to guess what’s gone into it besides a whole ton of syrups and sugar, and she’s trying to pull her hair back with her free hand. She stops short of the door to the break room when she sees Ginger and Katya, lets her long hair drop from her grip. 

“Hey! What are you doing here already? You’re not normally around this early,” she says, smiles bright at Katya. 

“Good morning,” Ginger says pointedly, opens up the door and heads into the store without waiting to see if Trixie’s going to respond to her. It’s probably good that she doesn’t, since Trixie just waves a hand vaguely in her direction without even really looking. 

“Hi,” Katya says, watches Trixie gather her hair up again, full coffee wobbling precariously where it’s still tucked into one palm.

“Can you grab my apron?” Trixie asks, tugging a hair tie off her wrist to hold her curls up. She twists around so that her back’s facing Katya, untied apron hanging off her shoulders, and after half a second of uncertainty Katya steps towards her, grasps the ties to the apron and carefully pulls them around her sides. “Do it tight, or it’ll come lose,” Trixie says when Katya starts to tie them with an inch or so between her hands and Trixie’s back, so she stops, dutifully pulls them tighter around the soft curves of Trixie’s middle. Her fingers brush against her shirt over her sides, where her wide hips slope up into her waist, and Trixie shifts just a little, rocks forward on the balls of her feet and then back again. 

“There,” Katya says, pulls the ties into a neat bow and steps back from her, pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose just for something to keep her hands occupied. 

“Thanks,” Trixie says, runs her hand over her stomach to smooth out the apron and then spins on her heel to push open the door to the break room. When Katya doesn’t follow her, she reaches back and stops the door shutting with the flat of her palm. “Don’t you need to put your bag away?” she says, cocks her head at Katya and sips her drink, teeth biting a little into the straw. 

“Oh,” Katya says, tugs at the strap of her backpack over her shoulder, thinks of the last time she was in the breakroom with Trixie. Apparently Trixie can read her mind, because she smirks at her around her straw.

“I promise not to start stripping in front of you again,” she teases, waits until Katya steps towards her to turn and walk into the room, letting the door start to close behind her. Katya pushes through it, glad that Trixie’s turned away from her again so that she won’t see the glowing heat in her cheeks at the memory of Trixie standing in front of her, the edge of her skirt biting into her soft stomach and breasts threatening to spill out of the cups of her bra. Then Trixie glances back at her over her shoulder, and Katya’s sure she knows exactly what she’s thinking from the way she quirks an eyebrow, smirk tugging at one corner of her full pink lips. 

Katya carefully avoids looking at Trixie again as she shoves her backpack into her locker. She shrugs off her jacket and puts that in too, pauses to push up the sleeves to her dress towards her elbows once her locker door’s shut. She glances up, sees Trixie watching her hands. Her gaze flickers up over arm, then to her eyes, just for a moment, and then she’s setting her drink down on the inside of her locker, pulling her purse towards her to rummage through it.

“I like your dress,” Trixie says, voice echoing a little around the small space of her locker.

“Thanks,” Katya says, rolls one of the sleeves up high on her forearm before pushing the other one up to match. “It has a pocket,” she adds, because it’s one of her favourite dresses for that very reason, then feels dumb for saying it.

“Oh, I love that!” Trixie says, looks up from her purse to grin at her and Katya relaxes again at her enthusiasm. “It’s so handy.”

“It really is,” Katya agrees. Sometimes she tucks her phone into it for her journeys to and from work, and right now she has her keys in there – and, more importantly, the notes she found last night, folded up neatly and stowed away until she decides what to do with them. 

Trixie’s focused on her purse again now, lips pursed in a frown, forehead a little scrunched. “God damnit,” she mumbles, taking her phone out and setting it beside her purse, then a small makeup bag, a couple of pens and a pink planner. She opens up the planner, riffles through the pages and shakes it out, sighs when a couple of receipts flutter out onto the ground.

“Is everything okay?” Katya asks, kneels down in front of her to pick up the receipts.

“Oh, yeah, fine,” Trixie says, sounds distracted. Her fingertips brush against Katya’s palm, the inside of her wrist, and then she takes the receipts back, slips them into her planner. Katya squeezes her fingers in against her palms, chews on the inside of her lip.

Trixie sighs again, replaces everything in her purse and picks up her drink, swings the door to her locker shut.

“You never told me why you’re here early,” Trixie says, and Katya’s grateful she does so that she doesn’t have to figure out what to say.

“I closed up last night for Ginger so she could go to an audition. I was going to drop the keys over at her place last night but I didn’t get around to it, so I had to meet her here in time this morning so we could get in,” she explains, falls into step behind Trixie without question as she walks back through to the café, the ice in her coffee rattling as she finishes it. 

“An audition? I didn’t know she was an actress,” Trixie says, slips behind the counter while Katya walks around it. Shea’s only just opened up so it’s quiet, which means Katya can hover opposite Trixie, watch her flit around to get everything running.

“Musical theater,” Katya supplies, and Trixie huffs with laughter, turns her head around so that her long ponytail whips against her neck.

“Oh, that makes so much sense. She’s dramatic enough for it, typical theater kid,” Trixie says, grinning at Katya over her shoulder.

“Yeah, she’s good at it,” Katya agrees, can see that Trixie’s nodding along with her even though she’s facing away from her again. Then she turns, pushes a huge coffee towards Katya across the counter.

“Here,” she says, looks so pleased with herself that Katya can’t look away from her, entranced by her big smile, slightly crooked teeth and the way one side of her lips pulls up a little more than the other. 

“Thanks,” Katya says, pulls the coffee towards her – double walled, as always, the cup just hot enough to warm her palms without hurting them when she holds it for more than a few seconds – and lifts it to her lips.

It’s not her normal coffee. It’s sweet, almost sickeningly so, and she can taste some kind of syrup that she can’t quite put her finger on. She can barely taste the actual coffee in it, and she has to force herself to swallow.

Trixie’s watching her closely. “What do you think?” she asks, pink nails tip tapping against the counter while she waits for Katya’s reaction.

“Um,” she says, trying to figure out what to say, and Trixie’s smile falters.

“No good?” she asks, reaches to take the drink back from Katy’s hands. Katya leans back, pulls it from from her reach.

“It’s great,” she lies, then immediately knows it’s worth it for the way Trixie’s smile lights her face up again. “It just surprised me. What is it?”

“I made it. I mean, obviously I made it, but I came up with it. I’ve been playing around with it, getting the flavour right. You get the first one,” Trixie says. Warmth spreads through Katya’s chest, and she forces herself to take another sip. Really, she thinks, she deserves a damn medal for not wincing at the taste.

“I’m flattered,” she says, and Trixie’s head tips back when she laughs.

“Bitch, you should be! You think I let Pearl near this?” she says.

 _Lucky Pearl_ , Katya thinks.

Pearl herself appears a few minutes later, jacket still on and bag slung over her shoulder. The café opened a good twenty minutes ago, but she doesn’t look bothered. 

“Hey,” she says, gives Katya a brief smirk before looking back at Trixie. “There are people,” she tells her, gestures past Katya. Katya turns her head, and she’s mortified to see a handful of people are in line behind her.

“I know,” Trixie says, looks a little downcast. The look she gives Katya is apologetic. “Can you start making drinks, and I’ll do the register? Pearl?” she says, but the door to the back is already swinging shut. Trixie sighs and her eyes close, her elbows hit the counter and for a moment she lets her hands slide over her face, exhales slow. It’s a wonder that her lipstick doesn’t smudge, but her makeup never seems to budge an inch even by the end of the day. On the occasions Katya puts lipstick on, she always ends up with it blurred around her lips no matter how carefully she’s lined them, rubbed off on her teeth, on the side of her hands where she’s pushed her glasses up. She doesn’t know how Trixie does it. It’s one of the many things about her that Katya’s in awe of; there’s so many she’s lost count. 

It’s pretty gross, really. She’s sure Alaska would laugh at her if she told her. It’s probably what she needs to snap her out of her stupid infatuation with a girl she hardly knows, someone to shake her out of it and remind her that she’s far too old for a high school-worthy crush. 

The thing is that she’s pretty much accepted it by now. She feels vaguely tongue-tied around Trixie still, but it isn’t anywhere that overwhelming terror over making a fool of herself in front of her that she felt back when they first met. She’s already acted like an idiot in front of Trixie plenty of times, and every time Trixie just laughs, managed to get Katya laughing, too.

The way she feels about Trixie hasn’t changed, exactly – it’s more like she’s settled into it, accepted how she feels and that nothing is likely to change anytime soon. There’s less of the frantic panic she used to feel whenever she saw her; the wave of emotions she doesn’t really want to start picking apart comes more like a low ache in the pit of her stomach these days, the kind that feels like something's missing. She still thinks about wanting to press Trixie against the counter in the café and kiss her senseless, but she also finds herself thinking about what it would be like to look over in the evening and see her sitting beside her, scrolling through her phone or watching something on the tv. Her tv’s old and a little fuzzy around the edges of the screen, but she’d happily try her hand at fixing it just for Trixie. 

She still thinks about wanting to unbutton her blouse, push down her skirt and kiss the faint red grooves where it’s dug into her soft skin during the day, but she also thinks about waking up to Trixie beside her, still asleep when Katya snaps awake before the sun’s even up. Maybe she’d grumble if Katya woke her up, pull her close and let her lay her head on her chest, centre herself to the sound of Trixie’s sleepy breathing.

Katya wants to hold her and be held by her. She wants to be the person Trixie comes home to every evening and tells about her day. Wants to be the person she falls asleep with at night. Wants to be the last person she speaks to before she falls asleep, the first person to see her smile in the morning.

She wants, she wants, she wants.

Katya takes a step back from the counter, sugary coffee still clutched in both hands. “Sorry, I’ll stop holding you up,” she says, and Trixie snorts.

“Thanks,” she says, deadpan, tucks back a curl that’s come loose from her ponytail. Katya gives her a quick nod and Trixie wiggles her fingers in a wave. When Katya turns to walk back towards the store, her shoulder collides with the man standing behind her in line. Fortunately she doesn’t spill any of her coffee on him; unfortunately, she doesn’t spill any of her coffee.

“Did I miss anything last night? Anyone call?” Ginger asks when she gets back.

“No,” Katya says, brings her coffee to her lips out of habit and feels her nose scrunch up at the taste.

“What’s wrong with you?” Ginger asks, eyebrow raised. 

“I can’t drink this,” Katya says, sighs and pushes the cup away from her. 

“Did your girl put sugar in it or something?” Ginger asks and Katya shakes her head. Ginger grabs the cup and prises off the lid, sniffs at it. “Oh, jesus. What the hell is that?” 

“I have no idea, but I think I have diabetes now.” 

“Why didn’t you tell her you wanted your normal coffee?” Ginger asks. Katya looks at her for a long second and Ginger groans. 

“I’m going to strangle you,” she threatens.

“Sure, if you can reach,” Katya replies easily. She’s not tall, but Ginger makes her feel like a giant. Ginger grabs a book from the shelf under the countertop and swats Katya’s shoulder with it. “Bullying in the workplace!” Katya says, gasps dramatically. 

“Is everything okay?” a voice from behind them says, and Katya glances over to see Max watching them warily. 

“Besides Katya being so pathetically smitten with the girl in the café that she’ll let her make her some disgusting drink masquerading as coffee? Sure,” Ginger says, and Katya gives her the dirtiest look she can muster. 

“Oh, um. I didn’t know that,” Max says, blushes furiously and turns away from them to neaten up the fiction shelves. 

“Well, that’s good news! Did you hear that, Katya? Someone within a hundred mile radius of you who didn’t know about your disgustingly unsubtle crush!” Ginger says. 

“I need coffee,” Katya groans, slumps down against the counter. Ginger pushes her drink towards her and she shakes her head. “That’s not coffee.” 

“So go get a real one!” Ginger says, puts the lid back on the cup and drops it unceremoniously into the trash. 

“I can’t! You know I can’t,” Katya whines. “Can you go for me?” 

“Absolutely not,” Ginger says, whacks her shoulder again. 

“I’ll go for you,” Max offers, and Katya looks up immediately, expression hopeful. 

“No you won’t,” Ginger says firmly, “your shift’s already started. If she wants to go, she can go herself.” 

“I hate you so much,” Katya says, deadly serious, while Max gives her an apologetic look and turns back to the shelves. Ginger just looks at her, unimpressed. “Whatever. I can go a few hours without coffee,” Katya says, pushes herself away from the counter. She bypasses most of her sections since was the last one in yesterday, goes straight for the alcove at the back corner of the store. If she’s going to last without a caffeine fix for the morning then she needs a little time away from the world, and her little poetry section is always the best spot for solitude.

She settles into the ugly chair she keeps back there, lets her head tip back against the uneven upholstery. There’s a crinkle as the fabric of her dress moves and it’s enough to remind her of the papers tucked into its pocket. She takes them out, unfolds them carefully and drums her fingertips against them when they’re spread across her thigh. Maybe she should just keep them, put them back into her pocket and take them home again, tuck them into her notebook and hope they keep on giving her the inspiration she needed so badly.

Half of her wants to do that. But the other half wants to know where they came from, who managed to write the words that helped the disparate thoughts in her brain click together enough to let her write for the first time in so long. Did someone mean to leave them behind? Had they been trying to throw them out? Or were they out there somewhere, wondering what happened to the thoughts they scribbled down and tucked into a pocket, a purse, were they searching for them right? Would they figure out where they’d left them, come back to the store to track them down?

Katya’s not even sure what she’d say if that happened. How do you explain to someone that a few lines they wrote down on a piece of paper helped pull you out of some kind of existential rut without it being weird? 

She turns the top piece of paper over, bites her lip. At some point last night she got carried away and some of her own writing ended up on the back of this sheet – not a lot, just a few lines, and they’re written in her hurried scrawl that she doubts anyone else would even be able to decipher.

She has to decide what to do. Part of her is certain that whoever the notes belong to won’t ever come back for them, but that kind of makes her even more curious. The thought that she might never know who’s responsible for her sudden rush of inspiration is driving her crazy. She sighs, stares at the words for a second or two longer and then folds up the papers again, tucks them into her pocket. She’ll give herself another few minutes of peace back here, and then she’ll return to the real world. In a few hours she’ll be able to go and get a coffee, tell Trixie that she loved the one she made for her but she doesn’t want to get sick of it, so she’d better have her usual. Once she’s got some more caffeine in her system, maybe she’ll be able to figure out what she’s going to do with the notes.

 

***

 

By mid-morning there’s a dull headache thumping against Katya’s temples. She thinks Ginger can tell from the looks she’s been giving her, half amused and half annoyed, but she’s determined not to cave just yet. She doesn’t normally have another coffee until after her lunch, doesn’t want Trixie to guess that she didn’t finish the drink she made for her earlier.

It’s been a quiet day so far, which has given Katya a lot of time to mull over what happened yesterday evening. It had been quiet then, too, and she thinks she can remember most of the customers that came through the store in the last couple of hours before closing – she found the notes on the floor by the travel section, in between the doorway to the café and the main entrance to the store, which potentially rules out the college kids who came in for textbooks, the woman buying a recipe book a gift, the couple who spent a half hour browsing fiction before leaving empty-handed. There are a few seats close to travel, so maybe someone was writing there yesterday and left their notes behind, someone she missed when she was helping someone find something or checking in on her sections. Trixie came through at the end of her shift to bring her a coffee, jacket on and pink purse slung over her shoulder, strap across her chest, so maybe she missed someone while she was talking to her. She always gets distracted by Trixie, wouldn’t notice much else going on in the world when she’s standing in front of her, so it’s definitely a possibility that it happened while she was there.

She finds herself in front of the travel section after a particularly dull twenty minutes of idly rearranging the displays over in new age and spirituality, meticulously checking that all of the stock out on the shelves is in order even though she doesn’t think anyone’s even gone near that section in weeks. She isn’t sure what she thinks she’s going to find here – it’s not like the notes had anything to do with travel, whoever wrote them probably just happened to drop them here on their way to the door – but she still scans the shelves, glances around the floor in case there’s any kind of clue lingering. It’s quiet over here and she can’t resist taking them out of her pocket again, skims her thumb under the words; the ink’s a little faded but the letters are all still perfectly formed. It’s like there’s some kind of instant connection, her thoughts knitting together so clearly as soon as she reads what’s in front of her, leaving her fingers itching for a pen. 

She has to find out who wrote them, or else she really is going to drive herself crazy. 

She glances around the store, spots a girl hovering by the counter who gives her a hopeful half smile when they make eye contact, holds up a book and gestures to the registers. Katya nods, refolds the notes and sets them down on the top of a row of books on the travel shelves. It’s good to have a distraction, and she can come and grab them again when she’s done. 

 

*** 

 

“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t like the coffee?”

Trixie’s voice behind her startles Katya, and she puts a hand to her chest before she turns to face her. She’d been busy replacing a small stack of books they’ve just had returned, mentally alphabetising when Trixie snuck up behind her.

“What?” she says, immediately feels guilty even though Trixie doesn’t look all that offended. She’s smiling, actually, that same little lopsided smile she gives Katya whenever she does something stupid in front of her.

“The coffee this morning. Pearl told me you hate coffee that isn't black." Of course Pearl told her - Katya's really going to have to kill her one of these days.  "Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t like it? I could have made you your usual,” Trixie says. 

“I – I didn’t – it was fine!” Katya tries to protest, then wilts under Trixie’s raised eyebrow. “You were so pleased with it! I didn’t want to make you feel bad,” she explains. Trixie huffs out a laugh. 

“I know I’m good at my job, but I’m not _that_ invested in it. You’re not going to break my heart if you don’t like a drink I make for you,” she says, and then holds out the cup she’s been holding towards Katya, her smile widening and getting just a little more crooked. “Here. Black, no sugar. Totally boring.” 

“God, thank you,” Katya says, takes it from her gratefully. She slots the last book into place and walks back towards the counter, stops at the opposite end to where Max is helping a customer use the new card machines. Trixie follows her, settles her elbows against the countertop opposite her; the way she leans over gives Katya a direct view down her shirt that she tries valiantly to avoid. She wonders if Trixie has any idea of what she’s doing when she stands like that, but Katya doesn’t want to tell her for fear of sounding like a creep. 

“I have no idea how you can drink something so sugary. It tastes kind of gross,” she admits, gives Trixie a sheepish smile over the top of her coffee as she lifts it to her lips. Trixie’s gaze flickers between her eyes and lips for a second, and Katya feels heat rise up her neck. 

“You realise I can’t take your complaints about something tasting bad seriously when you smoke, right? Cigarettes are disgusting,” she points out. 

“Touché,” Katya says, “although smoking kills your taste buds, so if _I_ say something’s too sweet then you should probably take it seriously.” 

“Maybe I’ll keep that recipe just for me, then,” Trixie says, sets her chin in her hands, fingers pressing into her round cheeks. 

“That’s probably a good idea,” Katya agrees. Trixie’s looking around the store, eyes scanning over the sections around them, her brow’s all furrowed again like this morning. 

“Is something wrong?” Katya asks. Trixie blinks and then straightens up, forehead smooth again. 

“Huh? No, of course not! I’m just tired, I guess,” she says with a shrug. 

“Maybe you’re crashing after all that sugar,” Katya suggests, puts on her best innocent expression. Trixie bursts out laughing and her hand smacks lightly against Katya’s forearm. 

“That’s rich coming from you. How bad has the caffeine withdrawal been?” 

“I have no idea what you mean,” Katya says with an affected loftiness to her voice, then lifts her coffee to her lips again. Trixie rolls her eyes. 

“Excuse me,” says a woman standing nearby, a book in each hand. 

“Look who’s distracting who now,” Trixie says, straightening up and giving Katya an apologetic smile. 

“I'll see you at lunch?” Katya says, hovers by the counter while the woman waits for her to finally pay attention to her; smiles bright when Trixie nods. She holds her gaze for a second, then two, as long as she dares, still smiling like an idiot, and then she forces herself to leave Trixie behind and actually do her job.  

 

***

   

It isn’t until late afternoon that she remembers the notes. Things usually pick up after lunch as people leave work for the day, kids get out of school and college students roll out of bed, and Katya’s grateful for the steady stream of customers who’ve kept her busy. She passes by the poetry section – it’s empty, of course, it always is – and suddenly thinks of the papers tucked away in her pocket. 

Except they’re not, anymore. There’s a terrifying moment where she’s patting her hand against her own chest (she definitely looks like a weirdo to anyone watching her but it’s hardly the first time that’s happened), trying to figure out how the hell she can have lost them. Then she glances around, zeroes in on the travel section and remembers leaving them there, feels relief flood through her. It would have been too painfully appropriate to lose them by having them fall out of her pocket without her realising. She crosses the floor, glad for the brief lull in customers that allows her to get to travel unimpeded. 

Her good feeling evaporates when she gets there. She stares at the rows of books in front of her, pushes her glasses up her nose and squints a little, crouches enough and then straightens up again so that she can get a look at all of the shelves. She steps forward them, runs her hands along the shelf at eye level, pushes apart some of the books to make sure nothing could have slipped between them. Finally she has to give up, stomach tightening painfully as she forces herself to acknowledge the reality of what's happened. 

The notes are gone.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look who it is,” Pearl says, puts a large coffee on the counter in front of Violet and smirks at Katya. “You know that you’re supposed to take days off, right? You don’t actually have to come into work every single day no matter how much you love this place.”
> 
> “Can you just get me a coffee? We can’t leave the store much longer,” Katya says, and Pearl’s smile drops, apparently she’s disappointed that Katya isn’t interested in bantering with her this morning. 
> 
> “God, you really do hate Saturdays, don’t you?” she says, huffs and turns towards the machines. Trixie comes to meet her, her cheeks a little pinker than usual, nudges her aside to hand Katya her drink. Katya murmurs a thank you once she’s taken it, gets a little smile in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter!!! we're inching forward, slowly but surely...
> 
> thanks as always to all of you who have left kudos, commented and reached out to me to tell me how much you're enjoying this fic! words can't express how grateful i am and how wonderfully surprised i've been by how well this has been received so far. i hope you all continue to enjoy! special thanks to [matilda_queen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/matilda_queen) for being such a wonderful friend and beautiful human being, [DahliasForKatya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dahliasforkatya) for being as kind and supportive and brilliant as always, and to [djoodigarland](http://archiveofourown.org/users/djoodigarland) for not only putting up with me whining about writing but also for coming up with part of this chapter months ago when we first starting talking about how fun it would be if there were a fic where katya worked in a bookstore. i love you all so much!
> 
> come say hi @[crackerdyke](http://www.crackerdyke.tumblr.com) on tumblr, and leave a comment if you like what you read!

Katya spends the rest of her shift alternating between states of low-level panic and resignation. The store’s pretty busy which means she can’t spend a lot of time looking for the notes, but when she can she takes a minute to look around the section she’s closest to, hoping desperately that maybe she’s misremembering where she left them, that actually they’re waiting for her on another shelf and she’ll be able to grab them before anyone else comes across them.

No luck. 

She thinks of the lines she read a hundred times over the night before and tries to recite them in her head, but she knows she’s getting them jumbled, missing out words and phrases. 

She remembers the words she wrote out herself, scrawled beside the originals, and thinks she could cry. 

Katya doesn’t think of herself as a particularly dignified person, doubts anyone else would, either, but rummaging through the trash is still a new low for her. She waits until Ginger’s gone out for a cigarette and Max is buried in fiction, reorganising the shelves after a busy afternoon, and then Katya tackles the trash. It’s made even worse than expected by her discovery that someone’s thrown their drink from the café in there, turning everything mushy. She’s grateful that isn’t much in there to go through, but then wonders if that means that someone emptied it over lunch, which would render the whole endeavour pointless from the start. She pauses, then decides to put that thought to the back of her mind since she’s already on her knees rummaging through a trash can. 

When Katya’s sifted through everything and has to concede that the notes aren’t there, she goes through to the back to the employee bathrooms, eager to wash her hands. It’s frustrating that she didn’t find them in the trash, but she thinks she’d have been more upset if she _had_ found them and they’d been ruined. She wonders if the drink that had been thrown away was one of Trixie’s concoctions, too sickly for someone to finish. Then she mentally shakes herself – everything always comes back to Trixie, these days. She’s in way too deep.

The urge she’s been feeling to write all day has disappeared. She can’t even bring herself to be surprised; it feels about right. She’s been waiting so long for a flash of inspiration that it feels fitting that it was literally just a flash, hitting her just long enough to let her remember how good it feels to be able to put pen to paper and actually come up with something.

She’s in a terrible mood, and when Pearl comes to get her for her last break of the day she smokes three cigarettes and barely says a word, lingers outside until she hears Ginger calling for her from inside. Trixie’s already finished her shift so there’s no chance of a visit from her to lift Katya’s spirits, and she floats around the store aimlessly for the rest of the day. She avoids having to talk to anyone as much as she can, half-heartedly keeps an eye out for any papers sticking out of the shelves, but she knows deep down that they’re gone. She’s an idiot for letting them out of her sight. 

Katya escapes from the store as soon as she can, doesn’t stick around long after closing to help like she usually does. She can tell Ginger’s surprised but she doesn’t say anything for once in her life, and Katya’s grateful. She just wants to go home and feel sorry for herself, eschew her sense of duty at the store in favour of a night on the couch with a bottle of wine. Maybe Alaska will be around to talk to her on the phone, but that would probably be too much of a miracle after a day like today. 

Her headphones go in for her cycle home so that Katya can indulge herself with some appropriately moody music. She doesn’t usually let herself wallow like this, but today she feels like kicking herself. It all felt too good to be true, and she probably should have learned by this point in her life that when things seem too good to be true it probably means they are. 

Just as she expected Alaska doesn’t pick up when she tries to call her, and Katya sends off a ‘call me!’ text without any real hope that she’ll get a response. She doesn’t have any wine, because apparently she doesn’t love herself, so chain-smoking on the balcony will have to do. It’s getting cold, though, too cold to sit out for long even with her jacket on, so she ducks into her bedroom to grab a blanket. 

Her notebook is sitting on her bed. It’s basically taunting her, and after a moment of consideration she grabs it along with her blanket. Once she’s curled up on her chair outside, feet tucked up under her and cigarette held between her teeth, she flips it open. Her own writing is laid out in front of her, getting progressively messier over the pages she used last night. She takes her cigarette from her lips as she reads over it, exhales long and slow and wonders, just for a second, if maybe seeing the words that had spilled out of her so easily might be enough to spark the return of the inspiration that had coursed so fiercely through her not even twenty-four hours earlier. 

It isn’t. Of course it isn’t. She wishes she’d had the forethought to take pictures of the notes while she had them, or written out the words for herself, or even just been selfish enough to just keep them at her apartment instead of taking them back to the store. But she’d given into her curiosity about where they’d come from and now they’re gone. 

Katya sighs, wedges the notebook between her thigh and the arm of the chair and picks up her phone, turns it over in her fingers as she takes another long drag of her cigarette. It’s almost fully dark out now, the days are getting shorter and it’s getting colder every day as they get closer to winter. She always likes the thought of winter until it arrives and it’s too cold to get out of bed in the morning; she feels the same way about summer, looks forward to it until it gets warm and she starts to sweat under the crappy a/c in the store. 

Alaska hasn’t replied to her. It’s not a surprise. She remembers the days when they had a constantly active conversation going on, a stream of consciousness between the two of them that switched seamlessly from texts to talking when they were both back at the apartment. But a lot has changed since they lived together – or a lot has changed for Alaska, anyway. Hardly anything has changed for Katya, and maybe that’s where some of the disconnect she’s been feeling between the two of them recently stems from. 

Katya’s closer to thirty than twenty and she still has no idea what she’s doing with her life. She’s self-aware enough to recognise that, no matter what Ginger or anyone else would say, and she knows she’s letting life pass her by. This isn’t where she expected to be, still working at the same store almost ten years after she picked up a part time job to get her through college; she can only imagine how horrified nineteen year old Katya would be to find out that she never left. Twenty-seven year old Katya isn’t all that impressed either, most days. 

She thumbs open her phone, scrolls through her contacts. At times like these she misses having a roommate, someone to distract her when she starts sinking too deep into herself. Usually she would consider calling Ginger but she’s busy with rehearsals most nights at the moment. She likes Violet and Pearl well enough but she never sees them outside of work unless they all end up in a bar somewhere, which doesn’t happen all that often. She could go to a bar now, she supposes, find a pretty girl to take her mind off things for the night. But her stomach tightens uncomfortably at the thought, and she can’t shake the feeling that it would somehow be like cheating on Trixie. Which is absurd, there’s nothing going on between them, but she’s never exactly rational when it comes to Trixie.

Trixie. She doesn’t have her number – she’s thought about it before but can never think of a good reason to ask for it – but it’s not like she’d call her now anyway. Trixie would probably be a good friend to be able to lean on right now, funny and thoughtful but also brash enough to probably know exactly how to pull Katya out of her state of self-pity, but they’re not close enough for Katya to be able to call her up and expect anything from her even if she had her number. She still aches for her presence when she lets herself think of her, can imagine all too well how much better her evening would be if she had Trixie there with her. Maybe she could fit another chair out on the balcony for her, set up right beside her own, she could share the blanket with Trixie to keep her warm; maybe Trixie would let her lean over and steal kisses between drags of her cigarette. Maybe they wouldn’t quite have space to fit two chairs out there and Trixie would have to settle in her lap, a warm weight on her thighs with an arm around Katya’s back, long hair tickling her neck. It’s such a vivid image in her head that Katya has to shake herself out of the fantasy. She can already feel anxiety prickling under the surface of her skin, an itch she has to fight to resist scratching. She’s in no fit state to think about Trixie right now or how she feels about her, to let herself get lost in scenarios that are never going to happen. 

Katya draws her knees up to her chest and her notebook falls off the chair, drops to the ground. She sighs and decides after a drag of her cigarette to leave it where it is. She wraps one arm around her legs and exhales a cloud of smoke into the cloudy evening sky. 

 

***

  

“What are you doing here? It’s Saturday,” Violet says when she spots Katya, coming to a halt just inside the door. 

“Ginger has rehearsals all day, so I swapped with her,” Katya replies, squinting at Violet while she cleans her glasses against the fabric of her dress. The lenses are still a little smeary but they’re better than they were before when she puts them back on. 

“Oh, god, I forgot about that. Is this going to be one of those situations where if I don’t want to go see her play then I’m being a ‘bad team player’?” Violet asks, using air quotes to emphasise her point. 

“Is it really that hard to sit through a play for a couple of hours? It’s one evening out of your life,” Katya says. Violet rolls her eyes. 

“Yes,” she says, and Katya snorts.

“God, I really don’t miss being twenty-two and having to pretend I didn’t care about anything,” she tells Violet. 

“Oh, because you’re so enthusiastic about the world now?” Violet retorts. 

“I’m better than you are,” Katya says, and Violet drops her bag onto the counter. 

“Bitch. Let’s go get coffee, I already texted Pearl.” She grabs Katya’s arm and drags her towards the café. 

The café’s busy, busier than it usually is when Katya goes in for her morning coffee, and even though Violet’s already sent Pearl her order they still have to wait in line. Trixie and Pearl are behind the counter and Pearl’s actually working, which is a pretty rare feat. God, Katya hates Saturdays, they’re so busy and all of the customers are always in a bad mood about being in a busy store on a weekend even though they’re the ones who’ve chosen to be there. Still, it’s probably a good thing to work the odd Saturday every now and again just to remind herself why she’s so adamant about always having them off, so that she can appreciate them more. 

Violet’s tapping away furiously at her phone screen while they wait in line and Katya’s gaze drifts over to Trixie. She’s leaning forward towards the guy she’s talking to, eyes wide and lips parted in a flirty smile. Her elbows are planted on the counter and she slides forward a little until her forearms are almost parallel to the countertop; Katya can see that the top buttons of her shirt are undone, one or two more than usual, and her elbows are pressing in a little to push her cleavage up. 

Katya already hated Saturdays and now, watching Trixie flirt with a guy right in front of her, she has another reason to. Trixie laughs, softer and more feminine than her usual animated cackle, smacks the guy’s forearm lightly and then squeezes a little before spinning on her heel to make his drink. Katya catches her gaze for just a second and then immediately fumbles for her phone, looks away from Trixie as quickly as she can. She feels like she’s been caught watching something she wasn’t supposed to see, wonders if she can leave without it being weird. Then Violet’s dragging her forward, past the couple of people ahead of them and ignoring the glares and annoyed noises that come from them skipping the line. 

“Look who it is,” Pearl says, puts a large coffee on the counter in front of Violet and smirks at Katya. “You know that you’re supposed to take days off, right? You don’t actually have to come into work every single day no matter how much you love this place.” 

“Can you just get me a coffee? We can’t leave the store much longer,” Katya says, and Pearl’s smile drops, apparently she’s disappointed that Katya isn’t interested in bantering with her this morning. 

“God, you really do hate Saturdays, don’t you?” she says, huffs and turns towards the machines. Trixie comes to meet her, her cheeks a little pinker than usual, nudges her aside to hand Katya her drink. Katya murmurs a thank you once she’s taken it, gets a little smile in return as Trixie buttons up her shirt. 

“What are you doing here? It’s—” 

“Okay, we all get the picture! Katya doesn’t usually work Saturdays, oh my god! If everyone keeps bringing it up I’m gonna lose my fucking mind,” Violet bursts out. Trixie looks taken aback but Pearl just huffs out a laugh, pushes her drink towards her and holds Violet’s gaze. 

“Drink your coffee, loser, jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” she says. There’s a moment where it seems like Violet’s going to ignore her but then she’s picking up her coffee, rolling her eyes at Pearl over the top of it. Pearl’s back to looking smug as she shifts her focus over to Trixie. “So, come on. How d’you do?” she asks. Trixie looks over to Katya, just for a second, and then she’s looking at Pearl again and smiling as she opens her hand to show her a crumpled bill. She unfolds it, holds it up for them to see properly. 

“His number written on a five. Pretty good for not even nine in the morning,” she says proudly. 

“A good start to the tip jar,” Pearl agrees, reaching for the note. Trixie pulls it back, raises an eyebrow at Pearl. 

“Oh, please. I didn’t see you working for it. Shea’s not here to enforce the jar, I’m not sharing,” she says, folds the bill up again and delicately slips it into her shirt, probably into the band of her bra, Katya imagines. Her eyes flicker upwards and they lock with Katya’s for a moment and her smile falters, cheeks flushing again.

“We should get back,” Katya says, cradles her coffee in both hands and steps away from the counter. “Come on, Violet. Ginger will kill us if we open late.”

  

***

  

From the moment they open up the store Katya barely gets a second to stop and breathe. It’s chaotic and awful and she swears to herself that she’s never working another Saturday again, assures herself that her bad mood has everything to do with terrible customers and nothing to do with watching Trixie flirt with a random guy right in front of her in the café.

Katya doesn’t even realise until close to her lunch break that she didn’t leave a tip behind for Trixie like she usually does, since they never let her pay in the café. She feels a little guilty, then thinks of the five Trixie had showed them so proudly and doesn’t feel too bad about it anymore.

  

***

  

Katya’s lunch break gets pushed back by almost an hour thanks to obnoxious Weekend Customers (a whole different subsection of the population, she’s decided over the years), and when she finally manages to escape she hovers by the door to the café and then passes by it, leaves the store entirely. She’s fallen into a habit of spending every lunch hour in the café if Trixie’s working, but today feels like a good day to break that habit. It’s a Saturday, so she’s already deviated from her routine, so it feels like the day to do something different. There’s no other reason for it, she tells herself. It’s good to change things up; she doesn’t need an excuse to spend one lunch break away from Trixie. 

 

***

  

“I’m going for a break,” Katya announces to Violet a couple of hours later, drops a stack of books onto the counter. 

“You want me to put these back?” Violet asks. 

“I don’t care. As long as this place is still standing when I get back, I really don’t care what you do,” she says. Violet’s eyes widen; she’s looking at Katya like she’s worried she’s about to have some kind of breakdown, and Katya understands why. Ginger owes her big time.

Katya only stops to grab her phone and cigarettes from the break room on her way to the back, doesn’t bother to grab Pearl – purely because she just needs to get outside straight away, not because she’s avoiding the café – and as soon as she pushes the door open she has a cigarette between her lips, lighter in hand. Once she’s had her first stabilising drag and can feel a little of her anxiety receding she opens her phone, sighs when she sees there’s still nothing from Alaska. She sets her phone down on the solid corner of the railings that surround the back steps then leans back against them, closes her eyes and rubs her temple with the pads of her fingers, tries to centre her breathing. 

“Are you okay?” Katya opens her eyes to see Trixie standing in the doorway. Her forehead’s a little crinkled and her expression is one of concern as she looks at Katya closely; when she steps closer and the door shuts behind her she wraps her arms around herself against the cold. It’s creeping closer to winter now but she’s just in her black shirt, and Katya forces down the ridiculous urge to offer her her sweater. 

“I’m fine. I just hate working Saturdays,” Katya says, looks down at her cigarette to get a moment’s respite from Trixie’s searching gaze. 

“Yeah, I can see that. Are you sure there’s nothing wrong? You didn’t come in at lunch and Violet said you’ve been stressed out all day.” 

What is Katya supposed to say? That she’s tired, she hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in longer than she can remember? That she’s more anxious than she has been in years? That everything suddenly feels infinitely worse after the rush of getting hit by inspiration for just a few hours and then losing it again, that even though it’s been a few days now since she lost the notes she wishes she’d never found them so she wouldn’t know what she’s missing?

“Violet’s a bitch, you really shouldn’t listen to anything she says,” Katya points out instead of saying any of that and Trixie laughs, just a quiet little noise of amusement. She leans her elbow against the railings only a step or so away from Katya, glances out into the alley behind them. 

“Why _are_ you working on a Saturday, anyway? You never told me after Violet threw her fit this morning,” she says, looking back over at Katya. 

“I’m covering for Ginger. Her shows start in a couple of weeks and she has rehearsals all day.” 

“You’re a good friend to her,” Trixie says. Katya snorts. 

“I won’t be after today. Saturdays fucking suck,” she says. Trixie nods, taps her fingers against the railings and looks down at the ground. For the first time there’s a lingering awkwardness between them, one that Katya wishes she knew how to get rid of. 

“Well, if you’re sure you’re okay,” Trixie says after a minute, pushes herself away and goes to grab the door handle. “My shift ends soon, I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything wrong.” 

“I’m fine,” Katya assures her, tries not to read too much into Trixie’s concern for her. 

Trixie nods and starts to open the door, then pushes it shut again and turns back to face Katya again. 

“Is this about this morning?” she asks, and a rush of embarrassment floods Katya’s chest. 

“What? No, what about this morning?” she says, stumbles over her words a little and focuses on stubbing out her cigarette in an attempt at calming herself. She opens her pack again and lights another, finds that Trixie’s still watching her with an expression Katya’s can’t quite put a name to. 

She feels like a fool and the last thing she wants to do is talk about what happened. It’s not like she was under any illusion that there was anything between the two of them, but seeing her flirting with some guy that morning has put how ridiculous her pining is into sharp focus. Trixie doesn’t owe her anything, shouldn’t have to defend herself for flirting with someone just because Katya’s nursing some pathetic schoolgirl crush on her. She feels stupid enough about it without Trixie actually bringing it up. 

“It wasn’t anything, you know. It’s really boring in there sometimes, it’s not—” Trixie stops when the railings start buzzing. Katya’s phone is vibrating and she half wants to grab it just for the distraction. She resists, and after a moment Trixie says, “It’s just a game Pearl and I play sometimes. It’s dumb, but it’s worth it for the tips.” 

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” Katya says, desperately willing the conversation to be over. It’s not a feeling she’s ever had with Trixie before. 

“But—” 

“No, really. It’s none of my business who you talk to or flirt with or…” Katya trails off, shrugs and taps ash onto the ground by her feet. Her phone starts buzzing again, shifting on the railings. Trixie looks over at it and then back to Katya, and she looks annoyed. 

“Isn’t it?” she says, eyes narrowed slightly. 

“What?” Katya says, baffled. 

Trixie opens her mouth to speak, then clicks her jaw shut and makes a frustrated noise as Katya’s phone buzzes insistently again. 

“Can you just answer your damn phone?” she asks, snatches it up and thrusts it towards Katya. The buzzing stops before Katya can even take it from her, and then the screen lights up with a new message. Trixie glances down at it and rolls her eyes, seems to stiffen a little. “The famous Alaska,” she says, waves the phone in front of Katya. Katya takes it and Trixie turns away from her, tugs open the door with enough force that it bangs against the outside wall; doesn’t say another word to Katya before she disappears back inside. 

Katya looks down at her phone.

 

_Alaska: i thought you had saturdays off? where are you? i have news!_

It’s typical Alaska. Katya can deal with her later, she decides, locks her phone and stubs out her cigarette with trembling fingers. She doesn’t let herself think about Trixie as she goes back inside, replaces her phone and cigarettes in her locker. Doesn’t let herself try to figure out what the hell just happened, what she’s done to annoy Trixie like that. It’s all pretty fitting, really, given the week she’s having. She shouldn’t be surprised, and deep down she’s not. Things always fall apart. 

 

***

 

“What the hell happened to you?” Violet asks when Katya walks back into the store. 

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Katya says, holds back the urge to snap at Violet and picks up the books she abandoned on the counter instead. 

“Did Trixie find you?” Violet asks. Katya ignores the question, walks away to start putting the books back in an attempt to avoid Violet for a few minutes. Violet follows her. 

“Are you really going to leave Dax by herself to deal with that line? There’s a lot of people waiting and…it’s Dax,” Katya says. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Violet asks. Katya drops the stack of books onto one of the fiction shelves with a little more force than necessary. 

“Nothing! Why does everyone keep asking me that today?” she says, pushes past Violet to start putting them back.

“Because you’re acting like a freak?” Violet suggests. “What did Trixie say to you? You’re being even worse now.”

“She didn’t say anything.”

“Sure,” Violet says, sounds like she doesn’t believe Katya for a moment. “I really wish you’d just get your shit together and ask her out. It’s getting so boring, no one will stop talking about it.” 

“You know the best way to stop it being so boring would be to just…stop talking about it,” Katya says. 

“I mean it! Why can’t you just ask her out on a date? She’s so clearly into you and we all know you’re basically in love with her,” Violet says. 

“She’s not into me and I’m not in love with her. You don’t even have any reason to think she’s into women,” Katya points out. Violet blinks at her. 

“What? Of course she is!” 

“She got some guy’s number right in front of us this morning,” Katya says. Violet stares at her for a moment and then bursts out laughing. 

“Oh, come on. Not even you can be that dense, Katya,” she says, takes the book from Katya’s hand to get her to look at her and raises her eyebrows. 

“She did!” Katya protests. 

“For the tip! Pearl does it all the time. That was the fakest flirting I’ve ever seen, she couldn’t even fake a laugh properly,” Violet says. Katya grabs the next book from her pile and moves over to the next row of shelves to replace it. 

“You still can’t assume she’s interested in women even if she _was_ just flirting with him to get him to tip her,” she says, even though there’s a flicker of hope blooming in her chest at the thought. 

“Do you want me to find out? I’ll find out for you, absolutely categorically, if it’ll get you out of this moping,” Violet says. 

Katya barely hears her. She’s just spotted a piece of paper sticking out from between two books on the topmost shelf almost directly in front of her, and she’s fighting the urge to grab it. But there’s no way it can be the papers she lost a few days ago, this isn’t anywhere near where she’s sure she left them; even if she’s somehow stumbled across them again she doesn’t want to let Violet see them. 

“Katya?”

“What?” Katya says, tears her eyes away from the shelves to glance over at Violet. She’s looking at her expectantly, and Katya looks back at the shelves, just to make sure the paper’s still there. 

It’s still there.

“Do you want me to?” Violet asks. 

Katya has no idea what she’s talking about, but she wants Violet out of her hair. 

“Sure, whatever. Can you go help Dax? I don’t want her crying in front of the customers again,” she says. Violet looks surprised, then passes the book in her hands back to Katya. 

Once Violet’s gone Katya puts the book down and stares at the paper for a long moment. 

It can’t be her notes: it’s been days since she lost them and she’s sure they must have been thrown in the trash before she could check. Someone must have been reading one of the books without buying it, probably left a scrap of paper tucked into a book to keep their place if they wanted to come back. Except when she looks more closely she can see that the paper isn’t actually tucked into a book but is between two, sticking out just enough that she doubts anyone would spot it unless they’d been keeping an eye out for any sheets of paper left lying around. 

It can’t be her notes, Katya tells herself as she tugs the paper free from the row of books. For one thing there were four or five pages last time, all folded up together, and this time there’s only one thin sheet. 

It can’t be her notes, she tells herself, but as soon as the paper’s in her hands she recognises the handwriting. Katya glances around to make sure no one’s nearby, grateful that the customers are starting to thin out as the afternoon turns into evening and she can hide away for a few minutes without getting interrupted. 

It’s the same sheet of paper she wrote on before, but now almost all of the space has been filled up with writing, around the words there were on there last time as well as the lines Katya added herself. Katya stares at them for a few long seconds, then folds the paper up with trembling fingers and tucks it into the side of her bra to keep it safe; she’s not risking leaving something so important on a shelf again. She takes a deep breath and composes herself, then heads back over to the counter to face the rest of her shift.

  

*** 

 

Dax, as always, rushes off as soon as the store’s shut for the night. Violet makes a token offer to stay and help Katya close everything down, but she doesn’t fight her when Katya tells her she doesn’t need to. It leaves Katya with some peace as she goes through the motions of everything she has to do, and she does her best to shut her brain off until after she’s finished. 

When she’s finished, she fetches her bag from the break room but then doubles back into the store, grabs spare paper from the counter and then goes straight for her cosy poetry section. She curls up in the ugly chair, sets her phone onto do not disturb and takes the sheet of paper she found earlier from her bra.

Katya runs her thumb gingerly over the familiar writing, reading over the words she already has practically memorised before letting herself look at the new ones. She flips the page over, focuses on the lines written directly underneath her own scrawled phrases that she left there.

 

_All the paper people wandering about,_

_wondering who made them…_

 

Katya reaches up, grabs the pen that’s been tucked into her hair behind her ear all afternoon. She starts writing, and she doesn’t stop.

  

*** 

 

Katya’s exhausted when she arrives at the store on Sunday morning. She didn’t leave the store until late last night, consumed by the rush of inspiration that hit her as soon as she read through the notes again. She feels like she should have been more cautious now that she knows how shitty she felt when it disappeared so quickly last time, but it almost feels like a compulsion once it hits her, like she wouldn’t be able to physically stop herself from writing even if she tried. 

She crashed out late and woke up with her alarm again, which means she only gets to the store a few minutes before Max, who’s always a little early for her shifts. Katya appreciates that normally, but today she was hoping for a little time to herself before anyone else showed up.

Katya’s been putting the pieces together all morning: the fact that there was only one sheet this time out of all of them that she found on the floor earlier in the week, that she’s sure she checked that same shelf for the notes on the day she lost them, that they were left so carefully between two books to keep them safe and mostly hidden. There’s only one conclusion that she can really come to: whoever it was who wrote them in the first place must have taken them back from the store on the day Katya left them lying on a shelf, and for some reason they’ve left them out for Katya to find again. Maybe they like what she wrote on there, maybe they took her additions as a sign of her appreciation, which is accurate. Whatever the reason is, Katya has a choice. She can keep them to herself, use them to fuel the inspiration that hopefully won’t disappear again if she keeps hold of its source this time – or she can leave them somewhere again. She remembered to take copies of the notes this morning, wrote out her favourite lines on a new sheet of paper that she stashed in the drawer of her nightstand in case she decides to leave them in the store to be found, rewrote everything she’d come up with into her notebook to make sure she can’t lose anything again. 

She has two sheets of paper folded up and tucked into the pocket of her jeans – the sheet she found yesterday and one of the ones she covered with her own writing last night. They stick out a little because these pockets are unreasonably tiny, but it’s a Sunday and she was too tired to think too much about her outfit so she’s wearing one of her comfiest flannels that thankfully hangs big enough on her to hide the corners of the paper sticking out. 

She’s going to leave them, she decides, picking up some returns she left to be reshelved the night before and leaving Max at the counter. Violet’s just arrived but she’s on her phone, so Katya thinks she’s safe from being ambushed by her for now. 

She’s going to leave them, she decides, she just needs to figure out where. She doesn’t want anyone else to be able to pick them up, which means they need to be hidden enough that no one will come across them easily, but no tucked so far out of sight that they can’t be found. She decides on fiction, since that was where she stumbled across them yesterday, but ducks around to the shelf furthest from the counter and the entrance. She sets the books she picked up down on the shelf in front of her, takes the notes out of her pocket, then finds herself hesitating. She made copies, but she can tell in her gut that it won’t be the same as having these same sheets of paper with her. She has no idea if she’ll see them again; just because whoever wrote them left them for her once doesn’t mean they will again. She takes a deep breath.

She’s going to leave them, she decides, then spontaneously tears off the lower part of the original notes, the part with the words that first jumped out to her when she first found them. Maybe it’s selfish, but at least this way she has some tiny reminder in case she never gets anything else back. 

Katya takes a minute to decide which books to leave the notes between, wants to pick titles that nobody’s going to go searching for on a Sunday morning. She finally stops debating and tucks them away, leaves just a corner showing. She stares at them for a moment, then tells herself she can come back and check to see if they’re still there later on in the day. She picks up the books again and tears her eyes away from the notes, ready to get on with her job. 

“Good morning. We don’t usually see you in here this early.” 

“I know, I know. Listen, is Katya here?” 

Katya stops when she hears Violet’s voice, then takes a step back when she hears Trixie answer her.

She hasn’t let herself think about what happened with Trixie, made herself focus on the notes and nothing else. She knows she needs to figure out exactly what went wrong, what she did to annoy Trixie the way she did, but she’d had the perfect excuse dropped into her lap and had been all too willing to run with it. 

But now Trixie’s here, and she’s looking for her. Katya has no idea what to do – so she stays still. She stays hidden out of sight, hopeful that she can buy herself a little more time before she has to face her. 

“She’s here, but I don’t know where. Maybe the break room?” Violet suggests, and Katya lets out a quiet sigh of relief. 

“Oh, okay. I, um. I brought her coffee,” Trixie says, and Katya hears the sound of her putting a cup down on the counter. She’s not sure she’s ever heard her so subdued. 

Is there something going on with Trixie? Maybe her frustration yesterday when she was with Katya wasn’t personal; maybe she’s stressed out about something else. After all, she can’t be all that mad at her if she brought her coffee before there’s even been a chance for Katya to into the café, and Katya clings desperately onto that thought. 

“Wait, Trixie!” Violet says. 

“I know, I know, I should have brought you all coffees, but I didn’t know who was working today,” Trixie says. 

“No, it’s not that. I mean, yeah, coffee would have been really fucking good now that you mention it, but I wanted to ask you something,” Violet says. Katya swallows hard and starts to feel anxious even though she can’t quite place why. 

“Sure, I guess?” Trixie replies. She sounds almost as uncertain as Katya feels. Katya starts sorting through the books in her arms to give herself something else to focus on. 

“Are you gay?” Violet asks, and Katya feels like the world freezes around her. It’s bad, it’s so bad, how could Violet do this to her, Katya’s going to kill her, she really is— 

“What?” Trixie says, sounds surprised. Katya wants to die, zeroes in on the books in her arms, tries to alphabetise them in her head to stop herself from totally freaking out. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened, Violet couldn’t have done anything worse— 

“See, Katya and I were talking about it yesterday,” Violet says, sounds so calm and unbothered even though she’s throwing Katya under the bus with every word, “and we couldn’t agree on it so I said I’d ask you.” 

Katya wants to sink through the floor. She wants to run straight out of the store and never look back, cut ties with everyone there and never speak to them again, wants to strangle Violet before she can say anything else even though the damage is already done, she— 

“Well,” Trixie says after a painfully quiet pause, “who was on what side?” 

Katya shuffles the books with shaking hands, _Brown before Connelly, Grafton before King_ , can feel her breathing picking up and getting shallower, her chest constricting until it’s almost painfully tight.

“I said you’re gay, obviously. But Katya—” 

Katya drops the books. They tumble to the ground loudly and Violet stops talking. Katya closes her eyes, forces herself to inhale long and deep even as she hears footsteps approaching her. 

Violet and Trixie are standing in front of her when she opens her eyes. Katya swallows hard, pushes her glasses up her nose, focusing hard on making sure her hand isn’t trembling. 

“Katya says you’re not. But,” Violet says to Trixie, then looks directly at Katya with a smirk on her face, “I think she’s just trying not to get her hopes up.” 

There’s a beat of silence and Katya wonders if they’re waiting for her to say something. She doesn’t think she could form words if her life depended on it; if her life depended on it right now, she doesn’t think she’d chose to. 

Then Trixie hums thoughtfully, holds out the drink in her hand towards Katya. She takes it wordlessly, and Trixie’s hand lingers by hers for a moment. Then her fingers brush against the little rainbow pin on her lanyard, spin it around before she draws her hand back. Trixie’s eyes meet hers and her lips pull up in a little smile. Then she looks back at Violet. 

“I wish she would,” she says, and with that she’s gone, walking away from the two of them and disappearing out of sight back towards the café. 

Violet has the audacity to look triumphant. 

“See?” she says, hands on her hips, “didn’t I tell you? She—” 

“I'm going out for a cigarette,” Katya says, cutting her off. Her voice is a little hoarse but her tone is serious enough, her glare forceful enough, that the smile drops from Violet’s face. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“But we’re not ready to open! You can’t just disappear on me,” Violet protests as Katya walks past her, stepping over the pile of books on the floor in front of her.

“Oh yeah?" Katya says over her shoulder, already halfway to the door to the back. "Watch me."

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Trixie, you should go with her,” Violet says. 
> 
> “What,” Trixie and Katya both say at the same time. 
> 
> “You should! She’s so good, the ticket shouldn’t go to waste,” Violet says. She avoids looking at Katya, and Katya knows exactly why.
> 
> “Oh, um. Maybe?” Trixie says. She sounds uncertain, glances over at Katya.
> 
> There’s a voice in the back of Katya’s mind yelling at her to run, to get out of this before she can bury herself any deeper in the mess of her feelings for Trixie. But she lets herself look into Trixie’s pretty brown eyes and see the flicker of hopefulness in them, swallows hard, forces her hands to unclench where they’ve formed fists at her sides. 
> 
> “It’ll be fun,” she says, watches one side of Trixie’s lips twitch up into a smile and feels herself mirror it. “Do you want to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go! this one's a big one. 
> 
> fun fact number one: in my last retail job, if you pissed off the manager she'd send you to collapse all of the boxes our stock arrived in. we also had a real divide between the permanent staff, none of whom were under sixty, and the uni students who worked part time. super fun place to work! 
> 
> fun fact number two: in my original plan for this fic i wanted it to be three chapters that would total around 15k overall. funny how things turn out. 
> 
> i was considering splitting this chapter into two parts but [djoodigarland](http://archiveofourown.org/users/djoodigarland) convinced me, rightly, to keep it all together. thank you!!! as always, thanks to the wonderful [matilda_queen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/matilda_queen) for cheerleading me the whole way through writing this and to [DahliasForKatya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dahliasforkatya) for putting up with all of my whining while i wrote this chapter. you're all angels!
> 
> thank you so, so much to everyone who's left kudos and commented on this fic, and to those of you who've reached out to me on tumblr. the reaction to this fic has astounded me, and i hope you'll all stick around for the rest of this journey with me! 
> 
> come say hi @[crackerdyke](http://www.crackerdyke.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you want to, and please leave a comment to let me know what you think of this part!

Katya sits on the steps behind the building for at least thirty minutes once she’s escaped the store. She didn’t think to stop and grab her phone or her cigarettes, doesn’t want to go back in for them in case she comes across anyone in the break room, so she doesn’t have anything with her to distract herself from her racing mind. She tries every distraction technique she can think of, focuses on her breathing instead of the insidious thoughts trying to take ahold of her brain. It’s not until she realises she’s been steadily sipping at the coffee in her hands ever since she sat down, using the regular little movements to ground herself, that she remembers Trixie giving it to her before she left.

Trixie.

 _I wish she would_ , she’d said, looked into Katya’s eyes with her big, pretty brown ones, that little smile on her face that always makes Katya’s stomach squeeze.

Trixie, Trixie, _Trixie_.

She finds herself wishing she’d stayed inside, given herself the distractions that would have come with the store opening, customers asking her questions or having to ring up their purchases. But she’s going to stick to her guns and stay away for a little while. She’d like to think that it’s making Violet squirm but she probably doesn’t care – still, it’s enough to think that she’s having to deal with handling everything in the store by herself.

It isn’t until ten minutes later when her coffee’s long finished that Katya realises that Violet’s most likely just left all of the work for Max to do, and that she should probably take pity on her and go back inside before she has some kind of meltdown over the sudden rush of responsibility she’s been left with.

Katya still takes her time going back inside, meandering through the break room and stopping to throw out her empty coffee cup. The store isn’t too busy when she reaches it, maybe half a dozen people browsing the shelves. Max is with someone over by fiction and Violet’s at the counter; it seems like they’ve got things under control. Katya considers ducking back into the break room while she can, grabbing her cigarettes and squeezing in a smoke break, but then Max looks up and their eyes meet for a second. The relieved expression on her face is enough to stop Katya from turning around.

Still, she does let herself take one last detour.

Violet must have picked up the books she dropped earlier, or maybe she got Max to do it, but they’re back on the shelves in their proper places.

The notes are still exactly where she left them.

 

***

 

By the time the afternoon rolls around, Katya still doesn’t really want to deal with Violet. Max takes the first lunch break and Katya does her best to avoid Violet in the hour they have with only the two of them to man the store. Violet keeps giving her looks that tell Katya she wants to address what happened, trying to come over and talk to her when she gets a moment, but Katya finds a way to keep them apart every time it happens. It’s not too difficult, given that lunchtime is always a little busier than the rest of the day even on the weekend. Usually she’d let Violet take her pick of the other two breaks, but today Katya’s eager to get away from Violet for an hour and avoid any attempts from her to try to talk about what happened. As soon as Max gets back she ducks through to the back of the store, only pausing to check in on the notes on her way out.

They’re still there.

When Katya gets to the break room, she considers how she should spend her lunch hour. Her first instinct is to escape from the store again, get away from having to see anyone – see _Trixie_. But when she makes herself think about it for a minute, she realises how that might come across to her. She doesn’t want her to think that what happened was a big deal, that Katya’s freaked out by some comment that doesn’t even matter or that she’s reading into it all too much. If she doesn’t want to give Trixie the wrong impression, she’s better off going into the café for lunch like she usually does when they’re both working.

With a sigh, Katya opens her locker and goes into her bag to grab her wallet and phone. A tap on her phone’s screen tells her it’s dead; she internally curses her stupid broken charger and slams the door to her locker shut.

She spots Violet’s phone on the table by the window, plugged into a charger. She considers for a moment before deciding that Violet owes her at least this much. Her phone’s halfway charged anyway, so she doesn’t feel too bad about unplugging it to charge her own.

After a pit stop outside for a cigarette – it lasts longer than she intends it to and she tells herself it has nothing to do with putting off having to face Trixie again – Katya makes her way through to the café. It’s busy, towards the tail end of the lunch rush, and she’s grateful for it since it means she can slip between the people waiting and take a seat at a table in the corner without being spotted; she can grab food once the line calms down. Pearl’s nowhere to be seen, leaving Trixie and Shea to handle the orders. It’s another thing Katya’s grateful for, since it means that Trixie can’t get away from the counter to come talk to her. Still, she finds herself itching for her phone, for something to keep herself occupied. She half wishes she had her notebook so she could write – even with the notes still waiting in the store, she feels like she has it in her, and that in itself is a pretty good feeling.

After a few minutes the line starts to peter out, but before Katya can get up she spots Trixie making a beeline for her. She deposits a coffee, sandwich and chips in front of Katya and drops into the seat opposite her, tears into her own bag of chips and leans back against her chair.

“You survived your Saturday shift, then,” she says, eyes meeting Katya’s as she pulls her own iced coffee towards her.

“Debatable,” Katya replies, feels her lips twitch up into a smile at the snort it gets out of Trixie.

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but you are looking a little more decrepit today,” she agrees.

“Is that why you brought my lunch over for me? Afraid I wouldn’t make it all the way over there and back?” Katya asks.

“I was a little concerned. Besides, you always get the same thing and we were almost out.” Trixie’s grinning at her and Katya rolls her eyes, cradles her coffee between her palms.

“You know summer’s over, right? We’re well into fall now, I don’t know how you can keep drinking iced drinks all the time,” Katya says.

“They’re nice, I like them better,” Trixie says, shrugs and flips her hair over her shoulder as pink lips wrap around her straw. Katya’s gaze gets caught on her neck for a moment, the soft line of it as she swallows, and then she pulls herself back and focuses on the little smirk that’s tugging at Trixie’s lips.

“You just don’t want to mess up your lipstick,” Katya realises.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Trixie says loftily, but Katya can see the pink smudge around her straw.

“It’s gonna get to December and you’re going to be sitting there shivering with a damn iced coffee, aren’t you?” she says.

“It’s worth it to look this good,” Trixie replies easily, waits a beat and then smacks a hand against the table, laughs her big, hollering laugh at herself.

Trixie’s always the first person to laugh at herself, and she always laughs the loudest. It’s like she has some deep level of self-assurance that Katya can only marvel at. Katya’s hardly averse to laughing at herself, but there’s something about the way that Trixie does it that feels like she’s daring anyone to challenge her. Katya loves it.

She’s teasing Trixie about the way she has to eat her lunch to avoid smudging her lipstick, tearing food into small bites that won’t touch her lips too much, when Pearl stalks over to them from the doorway to the store.

“I was going to tell you that you can take your lunch now, but I can see you already did. Thanks for waiting for me to get back,” she says to Trixie.

“Okay, first of all, you were gone for an hour and a half. Second of all, I don’t remember Shea making you my boss. Third, what crawled up your fucking ass and died?” Trixie asks, raises an eyebrow at Pearl. She rolls her eyes, doesn’t bother to reply to her and turns her attention to Katya.

“Violet’s waiting for you to get back so she can go,” she tells her.

“I’ve still got ten minutes, she can wait,” Katya says smoothly after a glance at her watch. Usually she wouldn’t mind ducking back in a little early to give Violet a break, but today she doesn’t feel like it.

“I think she’s gonna be pissed,” Pearl says.

“I think I can deal with that,” Katya assures her. Trixie watches Pearl wander over towards the counter, and when she looks back at Katya her expression’s thoughtful.

For a moment, Katya’s worried she’s going to bring up what happened that morning. She swallows, brings her coffee up to her lips like some kind of shield between them, but Trixie just says, “What did Alaska want in the end?”

“Huh?” Katya says, baffled.

“When she kept calling you yesterday. Did you answer her?” Trixie prompts. Katya thinks back to the day before, supresses a wince at the memory of the awkward moment outside.

“No, not yet. My phone was dead when I went to check it just now, so I guess she could have texted me and I wouldn’t have seen it.”

‘You let your phone die?” Trixie says, apparently mystified by the concept.

“My charger’s kind of broken,” Katya says with a shrug. “It’s charging now. I guess I should see what she wanted.” Alaska replies to her so rarely these days that she figures there probably has to be a pretty important reason for her to actually try to call Katya.

When she gets up from the table and clears their trash away, heads through the café to the back of the store, Trixie follows her instead of stopping at the counter.

“There’s no way I’m giving Pearl the satisfaction of starting early,” she says when Katya gives her a questioning look.

Violet’s in the break room. She looks over when they walk in, holds Katya’s phone up in one hand and her charger in the other.

“What are you doing here?” Katya asks instead of answering the silent question.

“Why, am I interrupting something?” Violet asks. Katya manages to restrain herself from making an annoyed noise and steps forward, takes her phone from Violet’s hand.

“Did you leave Max out there by herself? I’m still on lunch,” she says.

“I’m sure she can handle the three customers who were in there before I came back here. Besides, I asked Pearl to see if you were coming back. I figured since you took that extra break first thing this morning you probably wouldn’t stretch lunch out too long,” Violet says pointedly. Katya ignores her and opens her phone instead.

“Alaska really wants to talk to you,” Trixie says from beside her. She’s leaning back against the lockers with her own phone in hand. Something like a glare flickers across her face when Violet laughs.

There’s a dozen missed calls from Alaska and even more texts. One of the most recent ones reads, _i’ve been texting you for hours and you haven’t replied once. is this what it’s like to be friends with me?_

Katya has to laugh at that.

“She’s gonna be in town in a couple of weeks,” she says once she’s read through all of the messages.

“Oh. That’s nice,” Trixie says. She doesn’t sound like she means it all that much.

“She’s doing a gig with some of the girls she works with, she’ll probably only be here for a couple of days max,” Katya says. Violet’s head snaps up from where she’s been looking at her own phone.

“Alaska’s performing? Here?” she asks.

“I’m not sure performing in the break room would be the best place she’s performed. I mean, it wouldn’t be the worst, but—”

“Shut the fuck up. When is it? You promised me I could go with you when she’s next here!” Violet says.

“What,” Katya says.

“She’s really great, you should see her performances, I’ve watched them all on youtube so many times,” Violet says to Trixie, whose lips are thinner than Katya’s ever seen them.

“Oh yeah?” she says. She doesn’t look at Katya.

“Yeah. I missed it last time she performed here, Katya promised I could go with her next time. So when is it?” Violet asks, turns back to Katya again.

There’s a beat of silence and Violet’s expression falters a little as Katya stares her down.

“I should get back,” Trixie says after a moment. Katya tries to figure out what to say but she still doesn’t have any words by the time Trixie’s replaced her phone in her locker and shut its door. “I’ll see you later,” she says, and then she’s gone.

“Katya, look, about earlier,” Violet starts, and Katya laughs humourlessly.

“No,” she says, types out a quick message to Alaska promising to call her once she gets home from work and then tosses her phone into her own locker.

“You said it was okay! It was fine, it was funny!” Violet says. There’s a slightly desperate tone to her words.

“Go to lunch, Violet,” Katya says.

“You said – c’mon, Katya, please,” she says. “I—”

Katya lets the door to her locker slam shut a little more forcefully than usual. Violet looks surprised, but Katya doesn’t say anything before she heads back out to the store.

It’s not exactly heaving with customers but it’s too busy to have left Max by herself this long. Katya takes charge of the counter, sends Max off to tackle the relatively calmer task of re-shelving by way of apology.

It isn’t until mid-afternoon that Katya remembers to go back and check the shelf.

The notes are gone.

 

***

 

Katya’s never been so glad to have a couple of days off from work as she is this week. After the weekend from hell she gets two days to relax a little, starting with her first phone call with Alaska in weeks once she gets home from dropping the keys to the store through Ginger’s letter box. The call doesn’t last long, Alaska’s always so busy these days that she can’t spare more than ten minutes while she ducks outside to call Katya from a parking lot outside a club somewhere, but it’s still something.

She spends the rest of Sunday night curled up out on her balcony, finishes the rest of her pack of cigarettes and flips through her notebook. Even without the notes there she still likes the words written down in front of her, which is something of a novelty.

She doesn’t write much more, but by the end of the night there are a few more words on the pages than there were when she sat down. Baby steps, but steps nonetheless.

It’s late. She hadn’t realised how much time had passed but the sky’s pitch black, her notebook barely visible in front of her in the light seeping out from the kitchen. Her pen’s long since dropped from her cold fingers, the empty pack of cigarettes fallen to the floor underneath her chair.

Katya’s picked up more techniques than she can count for coping with her anxiety over the years from the various therapists she’s been to see. One of her favourites is to count back from three every time she finds herself fixating on something that’s making her anxious: no more than three, don’t give the thought more time that it deserves, always count backwards, it makes you focus on the task at hand. Count backwards from three, then shut the thought down completely.

Three, _Are you gay? Katya and I were talking about it._

Two, _Katya says you’re not, but I think she’s just trying not to get her hopes up_.

One, _I wish she would._

Katya closes her eyes, wills her brain to shut off.

 _I wish she would_.

Katya gets up, tucks her notebook under her arm and retrieves her fallen pen and the empty pack of cigarettes. She folds up her chair and shuts the door to the balcony behind her, throws out the pack and leaves the notebook and pen on the couch. Once she’s in bed she plugs in her phone, double checks that it’s actually charging, and then she closes her eyes. Doesn’t let herself think of little half smiles and fingertips almost brushing against her own.

 

***

 

Two days away from the store have left Katya feeling fairly refreshed by the time she returns on Wednesday morning. She’s caught up on sleep, has three yoga classes under her belt, and she’s ready to face work and whatever – whoever – that brings.

“Good morning,” Ginger says when she emerges from the front entrance to the store just as Katya’s locking up her bike.

“Morning,” she replies, takes Ginger’s lighter from her when she holds it out. It’s the first time they’ve shared a shift in almost a week, and it’s nice to fall back into her usual routine.

“How was the weekend?” Ginger asks.

“Don’t ask me to cover a Saturday again unless you want me to burn this place to the ground,” Katya tells her. Ginger snorts out a laugh.

“Max said things got a little tense. Apparently Violet got a little too big for her boots, is that right?”

“It was nothing,” Katya says, doing her best to sound unbothered. She’s feeling a lot more zen about the whole thing after some space from Violet – and besides, even if she wasn’t she still wouldn’t want Ginger getting the idea that she needs to defend Katya’s honour over something so stupid.

“Hmm,” Ginger hums, takes her lighter back and pockets it, all the while giving Katya a considering look.

“It’s fine,” Katya insists.

“Sure,” Ginger says, doesn’t even sound a little bit convincing. Katya sighs.

Violet gets there just after they go inside. Jinkx is working today too, but she never gets there early, rarely even on time. She can get away with it in a way that Violet can’t, since she’s been there longer and, more importantly, Ginger likes her. Jinkx can run in ten minutes late and Ginger doesn’t care, but if Violet did the same Ginger would tear her a new one. Katya could probably stroll in an hour into her shift and no one would bat an eyelid.

Violet’s morning greeting is met with a grunt and a glare from Ginger. Katya rolls her eyes.

“I’m going to get coffee. Do you want anything?” she asks them. It’s too early in the morning to deal with some kind of blow up between them.

“I’ll come with you,” Violet says, but Ginger holds up a hand.

“No you won’t. She’s a big girl, she can handle getting us drinks by herself,” she says, makes a shooing motion at Katya that she could probably find offense in if she wanted to. She doesn’t.

“Oh my god, fine. Keep me trapped here, my shift hasn’t even started yet, but whatever,” Violet says, but doesn’t make to follow Katya when she goes through to the café.

“Is Vi here?” Pearl asks when she gets to the counter.

“Yeah,” Katya says. Before she can ask for any of their drinks, Pearl grabs a drink from beside the register and walks around the counter, out towards the store. “I guess I don’t need any drinks, then,” Katya murmurs to herself.

“I’ve got it,” Trixie says, smiles at Katya as she steps over towards her on the other side of the counter and pushes a coffee towards her.

“God, thank you,” Katya says, cradles it in both hands. The warmth that seeps through the double walled cup into her palms is enough to get rid of the worst of the fall chill that’s lingering from outside. “I need one for Ginger, too.”

“What does she have again?” Trixie asks once she’s grabbed a new cup.

“You still don’t remember? Oh, she’d love that,” Katya teases.

“Please don’t tell her. I’m too pretty to die.” Trixie gives her an exaggerated comical pout that shouldn’t be as desperately endearing as Katya finds it.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she promises her, tells her Ginger’s order. Trixie looks over her shoulder at her from where she’s standing at the machine, and the wink she gives her leaves Katya almost choking.

“Did you decide to let Violet go with you to see Alaska in the end?” Trixie asks when she’s made Ginger’s drink, set it on the counter between them.

“Oh, uh. I left her hanging,” Katya admits, rubs the back of her neck. It’s uncomfortable territory, tiptoeing close to the edge of actually addressing what happened on Sunday morning.

Trixie nods. “Sure. I—”

“Ginger’s yelling at Violet,” Pearl announces from behind Katya, makes her jump in surprise at her sudden reappearance. Thankfully she’d already set her coffee down on the countertop; it would have just about set her day up perfectly to have thrown coffee all over herself in front of Trixie before her shift’s even started.

“God, of course she is. I’d better go before world war three kicks off in there,” she tells Trixie with a sigh.

“Sure. I’ll see you later,” Trixie agrees.

Katya can already hear Ginger laying into Violet before she even steps into the main store.

“I don’t get paid enough to deal with this shit,” she says under her breath.

 

***

 

Katya has to spend most of the rest of her day keeping an eye on Ginger and Violet to make sure that they’re not at each other’s throats again. She’s grateful for Jinkx’s presence, not only for the fact that she gets along just fine with both Violet and Ginger, but also because she’s trying to quit smoking which means she can stay inside with Violet when Katya and Ginger go out for a smoke break after lunch. Katya considers trying to explain to Ginger that she doesn’t need her to fight her battles for her, but she knows it’s pointless. Ginger’s a dramatic bitch through to her core, and she’s never been a big fan of the younger college kids they get working part time, but she seems to find Violet just about the most annoying of them all. That combined with her fierce protectiveness over Katya had left her positively gleeful at the chance to torment Violet for the whole day.

“Are you really going to make her spend the rest of her shift checking the stock for all of Dax’s sections? It’s kind of cruel, even for you,” she says to Ginger as she stubs out her cigarette.

“Of course not, don’t be crazy. She can do new age when she’s finished, it won’t take her the rest of the day, and then there are all the boxes from the new stock yesterday that still need to be broken down,” Ginger says, wicked grin on her face.

“Ginger, come on—”

“I don’t know why you’re defending her,” Ginger says, pushes the door open with her shoulder and leads the way back inside.

“If you keep pushing her she’s going to snap,” Katya points out.

“Oh, I’d like to see her try. I’ve never had the chance to fire anyone; I’ve always wondered what it’s like. I bet it’s a real rush.” Ginger sounds a little too excited at the possibility for Katya to fully believe that she’s joking.

“Ginger,” she says warningly.

“Do you want to do all the inventory for her, then?” Ginger asks, raises an eyebrow at her.

“Fuck no,” Katya replies, “I’m not doing it. I just think you should cut her a little slack. She’s young.”

“Do you think you could stop being reasonable for one minute and let me have some fun?” Ginger grumbles. Katya bumps her arm with her elbow. “Fine, whatever. I’ll cut her some slack – from tomorrow.”

“That’s fair,” Katya agrees.

It’s not like any of this isn’t coming from a selfish place. The last thing Katya wants is for Violet’s misguided scheme to suddenly become the centre of some huge feud between the two of them. The sooner it all goes away, the easier it’ll be for her to try to forget it ever happened.

 _I wish she would_.

Katya looks around the store for something to distract herself before she can sucked back into thinking about it all again.

 _I wish she would_.

She takes a deep breath.

Three, _I wish she would_ , two, _I wish she would_ , one, _I wish_ —

There’s a sheet of paper sticking out from between two books in travel. Katya glances over at Ginger, who’s almost at the counter, and at Violet, crouched down in a far corner by their graphic novel selection. Ginger starts talking to Jinkx once she’s finished with her customer, which leaves Katya free to duck into travel and grab the paper from the highest shelf. She has to reach up on her toes and stretch up a little, and she does so as quickly as she can, hopes it won’t draw anyone’s attention. A quick glance at it and she can see familiar handwriting, and she bites her lip to stop herself from grinning as she folds the sheet of paper carefully, tucks it into the pocket of her jeans.

 

***

 

“What are you still doing here?”

Violet looks up at her from her spot on the floor. “Ginger said I needed to get all of these done by the time we go home,” she says, gestures to the boxes beside her.

“We’re closed, your shift’s over. Go home,” Katya says. Violet gives her a dark look. “I mean it!” she insists, but Violet just picks at the tape on the box in front of her until it comes free, rips open the box and pushes it flat. “God, fine,” Katya mumbles, kneels down beside her.

“You don’t need to,” Violet says, but when Katya raises an eyebrow at her she smiles. “Thank you.”

“It’s fine. Ginger will have calmed down by tomorrow,” Katya says.

“I hope so.”

‘She will,” Katya promises. There are only a handful of boxes left, and five minutes later she’s helping Violet take them all out to the recycling.

“Listen, Katya. About the other day,” Violet starts. Katya groans.

“It’s really fine, we don’t need to talk about it. Please can we not talk about it?” she says. She just wants to go home and take the notes out of her pocket, push the memories of the weekend even further back in her mind and write.

“Fine! I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I didn’t want to piss you off, but you two are kind of annoying to be around, do you know that?” Violet says.

“I thought you were trying to apologise,” Katya says dryly.

“You know what I mean. You needed someone to bang your heads together. Besides, she was so fucking smooth, I was kind of in awe. Right?”

“Stop talking,” Katya says, holds up a hand when Violet opens her mouth again. Once they’re back in the break room she gets her bag out of her locker, retrieves the keys to her bike lock and throws her bag over her shoulders. “Do you still want to go and see Alaska?” she asks Violet. She slams the door to her locker shut and all of a sudden she’s right next to Katya, throwing her arms around her.

“Fuck yes! When is it?” she asks.

“She’s not sure yet, they’re still ironing out dates,” Katya says, peels Violet’s arms off her and steps back, “but it’ll be next week, probably Friday or maybe Saturday.”

“Perfect, okay,” Violet says, beaming at her. The store’s almost completely closed down by the time they reach the front door, the lights over the counter the only ones still on so that Ginger can see what she’s doing.

“See you tomorrow,” she says to Katya.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” she says, looks pointedly over at Violet.

“See you,” Ginger grunts out to her. Violet gives her a sickly sweet grin that has Katya rolling her eyes.

“So,” Violet says when they get outside.

“So what?” Katya asks when Violet makes it clear she isn’t about to finish her sentence, sets about unlocking her bike.

“Are you going to ask Trixie out now?” Violet asks.

“Don’t make me regret sticking up for you to Ginger,” Katya says, grip on her bike’s handlebar tightening.

“Oh, come on. I didn’t do all of that for nothing, surely—”

“Bye, Violet,” Katya cuts in firmly.

“But—”

“Bye, Violet,” she repeats. There’s a moment of silence and she’s half-convinced that she’s going to try to push it again, but then Violet huffs.

“See you tomorrow,” she says, finally leaves Katya in peace as she heads over towards the parking lot.

Katya unlocks her bike, finds her headphones in her pocket to give her a distraction for the ride home.

_I wish she would, I wish she would, I wish she—_

Her fingers brush against the notes in her pocket, and she exhales a long, slow breath.

 

***

 

“What’ve you got there?” Ginger asks Katya when she walks into the store.

“Good morning to you, too,” Katya says, drops the padded envelope she’s carrying onto the counter. She leaves it there while she takes her bag through to the break room. She’s a little later than usual since she managed to lose the key to her mailbox in the bottom of her bag overnight, but she still has a few minutes until the start of her shift.

“Are these our tickets?” Violet asks, nudging the package back towards her when she get back out onto the main floor. Ginger’s disappeared off somewhere, but Violet’s obviously waiting for her to check the contents of the envelope.

“I hope so,” Katya says. She’s been pestering Alaska for details since she told her she spoke to her on the phone almost two weeks ago, but she’s so busy on their tour that she’s hardly even managed to text Katya back until late last night; Katya had woken up to a text promising her that the tickets should be with her today.

She picks up the envelope, then glances at her watch. She still has enough time to duck into the café to get her morning coffee, just about. She’ll be pushing things a little, but it’s worth it for the caffeine fix.

And to see Trixie. But mainly the coffee.

It turns out that she doesn’t need to worry about squeezing in a visit to the café. Just as she tears into the envelope, a voice behind her says, “I wasn’t sure if you were working today, since you never came in. I thought maybe I got the days confused.”

Trixie’s smile is warm and she holds out a coffee for Katya to take when she turns around to look at her. Katya can’t help but return her smile, reaches out to take the cup from her; lets her fingers brush against Trixie’s.

She could swear that Trixie’s cheeks flush a little, but it’s hard to tell under her blusher.

“I was running late,” Katya tells her, waves the envelope a little awkwardly to demonstrate why. She sets her coffee down and rips it open, tips it onto its side so that two printed tickets fall onto the counter along with a small pin. Violet snatches up the tickets while manicured pink nails sneak past Katya’s side to pick up the pin.

“What the fuck is this?” Trixie asks, squinting at the pin and then holding it up for Katya to see. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, then laughs.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe they’re actually making them. I thought she was joking.” At Trixie’s quizzical expression, she says, “It’s Lil’ Poundcake. It’s a character Alaska does, it’s dumb.”

“It’s really funny though, the make-up’s fucking genius,” Violet cuts in, reaches out to try to grab the pin from Trixie to get a look. Trixie pulls it back, waits for Violet to give up, then looks at Katya again.

“I’m sure it’s great,” she says. She hums thoughtfully and then she’s reaching out towards her; for half a second Katya can’t figure out what she’s doing. Then she’s running Katya’s lanyard between her fingers, tracing it down until she finds a free space. She opens up the Poundcake pin and pushes it through the material, bites her lip as she makes sure not to push it too hard and end up poking one of them. She’s closer to Katya than she’s ever been, she can make out individual freckles under her makeup, see how thick her mascara is when she blinks. She smells like sweet perfume, one of the ones the beauty stores sell.

“There,” Trixie says, closes the pin on the other side. Her fingertips make sure her lanyard’s smooth, lying flat against the material of her dress, and then she pulls her hand back.

“Thanks,” Katya says. Her voice is a little more hoarse than she’d like, but at least she managed to make it work with Trixie in such close proximity.

“Hey,” Violet says, snaps Katya out of her trance. She takes half a step back and Trixie does too. “I thought you said the gig would be on Friday.”

“Isn’t it?” Katya asks. Violet pushes the tickets across the counter towards her.

“No, it’s on Thursday. I can’t do Thursday, I have class until seven and then a project due for my Friday morning class,” Violet says. Katya picks up the tickets, traces her finger down until she finds the date and time.

“You really can’t make it? Can’t you get your project finished by Thursday?” she asks Violet.

“No,” Violet shakes her head, sighs and pushes herself away from the counter, “I have too much to do between now and then.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Katya says. She feels as sorry for herself as she does for Violet: the last thing she wants to do is go by herself to Alaska’s gig. Ginger’s still busy every evening with rehearsals, Jinkx has an evening gig as a singer most nights. Maybe she could ask Max, but she barely knows her, she’s so quiet most of the time. It probably wouldn’t be her kind of thing anyway.

“Trixie, you should go with her,” Violet says.

“What,” Trixie and Katya both say at the same time.

“You should! She’s so good, the ticket shouldn’t go to waste,” Violet says. She avoids looking at Katya, and Katya knows exactly why.

“Oh, um. Maybe?” Trixie says. She sounds uncertain, glances over at Katya.

There’s a voice in the back of Katya’s mind yelling at her to run, to get out of this before she can bury herself any deeper in the mess of her feelings for Trixie. But she lets herself look into Trixie’s pretty brown eyes and see the flicker of hopefulness in them, swallows hard, forces her hands to unclench where they’ve formed fists at her sides.

“It’ll be fun,” she says, watches one side of Trixie’s lips twitch up into a smile and feels herself mirror it. “Do you want to?”

Trixie’s half formed smile blossoms into a grin. “Sure. Thursday, right?”

“Thursday,” Katya agrees.

“Okay,” Trixie says, nods. “I should get back before Shea murders me for disappearing for so long. You can tell me the details at lunch.”

“Okay,” Katya echoes.

Katya and Violet both watch Trixie walk across the store and back into the café. Then Violet whips her head back around to face Katya, long, shiny ponytail swinging over her shoulder. She smirks at her, while Katya grabs onto the tickets in front of her and holds them so tight they crumple a little at the edges.

Violet says, “You can thank me later, once you remember how to talk.”

 

***

 

Trixie’s working at her other job on Thursday, which means that even though Katya spends the whole day on the verge of a nervous breakdown at least she doesn’t have to face Trixie. She blanks on everything she gets asked by customers, drops almost every book she picks up and she’s so on edge that she jumps a foot in the air every time someone comes near her.

“Oh my god, can you please just go home?” Ginger says in despair when Katya almost knocks her rounding the corner of one of the shelves.

“We don’t close for another half hour!” Katya protests. She knows she’s a mess, but she think she’d rather be a mess at work with countless distractions to stop a full blown meltdown from taking over.

“And you’re useless today. Please, for the sake of my sanity, go home. Go get ready for your date, take a damn bubble bath. Take a fucking Xanax! Just go,” Ginger says.

“It’s not a date,” Katya protests, but puts her hands up in defeat when Ginger all but growls at her and gestures to the back of the store.

Once Katya gets home she finds herself pacing around the small space of her apartment, cigarette clamped between her lips. She doesn’t usually smoke inside – that novelty had worn off pretty quickly after she first moved into the apartment by herself and spent evenings chain smoking on the couch, more out of a desire to prove to herself that there were upsides to living alone than anything else. But she’s too antsy to sit still out on the balcony, too nervous to not need to smoke. It feels like a regression in itself, a return to being twenty-two and living by herself for the first time, grappling with her anxiety at its worst.

She needs to get a grip on herself, she realises as she throws yet another dress onto her bed. It joins half a dozen that she’s already rejected for various reasons – too boring, too over the top, she’s worn them too many times at the store. She likes this one, though, with the sheer layer over the top and the polka dots, the slight flare to the short sleeves. It’s dressier than she’d wear to work but not overly so; she can decide before she leaves whether to wear it with her boots or find her black heels in the depths of her closet.

She catches sight of herself in the mirror, takes her glasses off and considers them. Should she wear her contacts? She never does, prefers her glasses, but maybe she should make the switch for tonight. She doesn’t like her contacts much, she always worries that she’ll lose one, or both, while she’s out, or maybe she’ll forget to take them out when she goes to sleep and she’ll fuck up eyes, maybe one will get lost in the back of her eye and she’ll have to ditch Trixie to go to the fucking hospital, make a fool out of herself in front of her for the hundredth time, maybe she’ll—

_I wish she would, I wish she would, I wish—_

She shakes her head, inhales long and slow through her nose, tries to clear away the thoughts she can feel creeping up on her, exhales through her mouth and pushes her hands back through her hair. She needs to get a grip on herself. She has no reason to get this worked up: it’s not like it’s a date. It’s not a date. Trixie’s coming with her as a friend, it doesn’t mean anything, and she can’t let herself get drawn into the idea that it does.

She needs a shower, that’s what she needs. She’s been putting it off since she got home, the water usually takes a while to heat up in the evenings, but maybe the cold water can shock some of her nerves out of her system.

 

***

 

It isn’t until she’s standing outside the bar that Katya realises she doesn’t have Trixie’s number, has no way to contact her. Does Trixie have hers? Can she even tell her if she’s running late, or if she can’t make it? What if she can’t find the bar? It’s not exactly hidden, but Katya’s lived here a lot longer than Trixie, she knows where everything is in town. Maybe she should text Pearl, see if she can get Trixie’s number from her, but what would she even do? They said they’d meet at nine and it’s barely quarter to. Katya thought waiting here would be better than driving herself crazy pacing around her apartment, but now she wishes she’d stayed home another ten minutes.

There’s red lipstick stamped around her cigarette and she taps her lower lip lightly as she exhales, wonders if it’s smudged. It had been a last minute addition after ten minutes of fretting in front of the mirror over whether the smoky eye look she’d gone for was too much – she rarely wore this much make up anymore, could never be bothered with anything more than a cursory coat of mascara for work and doesn’t wear any makeup at all on her days off if she’s just running errands or going to yoga. Eventually she’d decided that if she was going to make an effort she should go the whole way, finished the look off with a dark red lipstick she’d found in the bottom of her purse.

“Katya!” Trixie’s on the other side of the road; she waves at Katya when she looks up. Katya fumbles for the last drag of her cigarette before stubbing it out and tossing it into the trash, pushes her hands into her jacket. Trixie manages to find a gap in the traffic and then she’s in front of her, neatly arranged curls blown just slightly into disarray by the autumn wind. “You’re early,” she says, smiles at Katya with lips that are painted a little darker pink than Katya’s ever seen them.

“So are you,” Katya realises. Only five minutes or so, but surely it’s a good sign.

“Can we go inside? I’m fucking freezing!” Trixie says. Katya isn’t surprised: Trixie’s pink dress is silky and looks pretty thin, the cardigan over the top barely any better. She looks pretty, and Katya wants to tell her so.

“Why don’t you have a jacket?” Katya asks instead, leads the way to the doors.

“With this outfit? Oh, honey, no,” Trixie says. Katya snorts with laughter. “Hey, you look great! I’ve never seen you in lipstick.” Trixie sounds surprised, but Katya’s not offended, knows it’s not supposed to be an insult.

“I do know how to make an effort sometimes,” she replies. Now that Trixie’s here she’s glad she went for her heels over her boots. Trixie has a few inches on her anyway, and her white pumps are high.

“I’m shocked,” Trixie teases. “Come on, let’s get a drink!”

Katya expects Trixie to order some kind of cocktail, most likely pink and as over the top as her coffee concoctions, but she surprises her first by ordering a simple vodka soda and then by insisting on paying for Katya’s drink.

“You got the tickets,” she says, waves off Katya’s offered money.

“I didn’t pay for them, though,” Katya argues.

“So you can get the next ones,” Trixie says breezily. Katya gives up, follows Trixie as she weaves her way effortlessly through the people in the bar until she finds a spot by a wall not too far from the small stage at the front. Katya shrugs off her jacket, careful not to lose her grip on her drink, and lets it drop to the floor by her side. She looks up and Trixie’s gaze is on her arms but it only lasts a second and then she’s laughing as Katya pushes her straw between her lips.

“What?” she asks, smiles around it. Trixie’s boisterous laughter is always contagious.

“Nothing. You just make fun of me for using a straw every day and now the tables are turned,” Trixie says with a shrug.

“They’ve hardly turned, you’re still doing it too,” Katya points out.

“Still. Let me have my fun,” Trixie says. She’s still grinning at her.

Katya had been a little worried that things would be awkward with Trixie outside of the store. It’s always given them an easy common ground, and she hadn’t been sure about how things would translate when they weren’t at work. But it still feels as natural as ever, and she can feel a little of the tight tension in her chest easing off.

Trixie’s attention turns to the purse slung over her shoulder and she fumbles to open it, takes out her phone. “Sorry, sorry,” she says, tucks her drink into the crook of one arm to type furiously for a minute.

“Is everything okay?” Katya says. Trixie doesn’t respond straight away, still focused on her phone, and Katya can feel herself catastrophizing. Something’s come up, Trixie’s going to have to go, she doesn’t want to be here, she’s looking for an excuse to get away, something bad’s happened and Katya’s a bad person for thinking she’s going to make an excuse, she’s—

“It’s just Kim checking in on me,” Trixie says and Katya lets out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. Trixie drops her phone back into her purse and gets hold of her drink again, swirls its straw around its contents. “You never told me how you know Alaska. College, right?”

“She was my roommate in my first year,” Katya says with a nod.

“And after?”

“We lived together all four years, plus a few months after graduation.”

“And then she moved away?”

“Yeah. To California,” Katya says. Considers elaborating, then decides against it.

“She seems to have made an impression on everyone in the store even from so far away,” Trixie says. Her head’s cocked slightly, straw bumping against her lower lip.

“I mean, she knows Ginger and Pearl and Shea from when she used to live here, while we were in college. She met Violet and Jinkx last time she visited,” Katya explains.

“Have you really worked there that long?” Trixie sounds surprised, and Katya looks down at her drink.

“It’s been a while.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Trixie says. Katya shrugs. “So she moved to LA and you stayed here?”

“Pretty much,” Katya says. Trixie nods.

“And there was never anything…” Trixie trails off, chews a little on the straw between her teeth.

“What?” Katya asks. Trixie seems to consider explaining herself, then gestures over to the stage.

“Is that her?”

“Oh my god.” Katya grabs her phone from her bag and holds it up to record Alaska wiggling onto the stage.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as bow-legged. Is she okay?” Trixie asks. Katya laughs, zooms her camera even further.

“She looks ridiculous. I love it,” she says.

Katya’s seen enough videos on Instagram from Alaska’s gigs to know what’s coming. She warms the crowd up like a champ, and Katya can tell she’s having a blast as she throws herself around the stage. Her hair is stacked high on her head, makeup bold and beautiful and she’s padded for the gods. It’s all a far cry from when she first started performing years ago, and it makes Katya proud to see her friend doing so well for herself, even if she has to swallow back the hollow feeling it brings up in her throat.

“That was not what I was expecting,” Trixie admits once Alaska’s disappeared off stage.

“No?” Katya asks.

“No,” Trixie echoes. “Huh.”

“Did you like it?” Katya asks. They’ve talked a lot about music before, she knows it’s something Trixie’s passionate about, that her internship is to do with music. She’s talked her ear off about the virtues of all Dolly Parton’s different eras and albums, they’ve debated the merits of Stevie Nicks’ solo music versus the songs she wrote with Fleetwood Mac; Trixie’s sent her home with strict instructions on the right Joni Mitchell album to listen to to get her into her music. Trixie loves music, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything when it comes to Alaska’s performances.

“She’s really good,” Trixie says, nods.

“Do you want another drink?” It’s starting to get a little more crowded around them as they set up the stage for the main act and Katya’s starting to feel penned in.

“Sure. You owe me,” Trixie says with a grin. The bar’s busier too but Trixie appears to be an expect in finding a crack in the mass of people around it and pushing them through to the front. Once they’ve got their drinks Katya hovers at the back of the crowd, unwilling to dive back in just yet. Luckily Trixie doesn’t seem too bothered either. “So, something weird happened to me at work today,” she tells Katya. The words sound almost rehearsed, like she’s been waiting for the chance to say them all evening.

“Oh yeah? At your internship?” Katya asks. Trixie nods. “What happened?”

Before Trixie can reply, a hand grabs at Katya’s elbow.

“You came!” Alaska says, sweeps Katya into a tight hug before she can fully react.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” she says. She lets Alaska squeeze her for a second, then pats her shoulder and pulls herself back from her embrace.

“I know, but I wasn’t sure given your hermit ways recently,” Alaska says. She’s still all made up from the stage but she’s lost her heels. She’s almost nose to nose with Katya without them, only maybe an inch taller than her.

“Shut the fuck up!” Katya says, forcing a laugh to hide her embarrassment. Alaska looks past her and spots Trixie.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing a girl,” she says, pushes on Katya’s shoulder. Katya wants to sink through the floor and never emerge again.

“She’s – I – she’s not – we work together. Trixie, Alaska,” she says, gestures vaguely between them.

“Hi,” Alaska says, beams at Trixie. Katya glances over at her; she’s looking at her phone again.

“Hi,” she replies. The smile on her face doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Let me get a drink. We should go outside, they’ve done the smoking area up since I was last here. It’s fancy,” Alaska says. She squeezes Katya’s arm again and then darts off to the bar.

There’s a moment of silence between the two of them and Katya can feel all of the awkwardness she was worried about rising up. “I’m sorry about her. She’s an idiot,” she offers lamely.

“I can see why you’re friends,” Trixie says. Her smile looks a little more sincere, but she’s still holding her phone tightly in her hand like some kind of shield.

“You were trying to tell me something,” Katya remembers. Trixie blinks once, twice, and then nods.

“Oh, yeah. Well, when I was at work, I—”

“I got shots!” Alaska announces triumphantly when she returns. Trixie pulls a face.

“I have work in the morning,” she says, shakes her head. Alaska shrugs, holds one out for Katya.

“So do I!” she protests, but she can tell from the look Alaska’s giving her that she can’t get out of it. She sighs and takes it, knocks it back and grimaces.

“I feel way too old for this,” she admits, which gets a snorting laugh from Alaska.

“Speak for yourself, we’re the same fucking age!” she says, then takes the shot Trixie declined. She takes Katya’s glass from her and sets them all back on the bar, grabs two larger drinks she left there. “What?” she says at Katya’s raised eyebrow, “I’m off the clock for the night. Let me have fun!”

Alaska leads them over to a table in the corner of the smoking area once they’re outside. It’s a little colder than it was when they arrived and Katya has her jacket slung over her arm. A glance over at Trixie and she can see that she’s got her arms wrapped around herself as best she can with a drink and her phone in her hands.

“Do you want my jacket?” Katya asks, sets her drink down on the table and holds it out to Trixie. She hesitates for a second, slightly crooked teeth digging into her full lip.

“Are you sure?” she asks. Katya nods, holds it up so that Trixie can slip it on once she’s set her drink and phone down. Thankfully it’s always been big on Katya so it fits Trixie fine.

For a moment, while she’s wriggling her arms into the sleeves, Katya can pretend that when she’s done she gets to wrap her arms around Trixie’s middle, hold her close to warm her up.

She has to stop herself from laughing at how ridiculous she is. Maybe her drinks have already affected her more than she expected.

“Thank you,” Trixie says when she has the jacket wrapped around her, gives Katya a small smile. It might be the softest she’s ever seen her, and Katya instinctively returns it. She sits down on the bench in front of her and Trixie goes to sit beside her, but Alaska squeezes into the spot before she can make it.

“Oh, uh.” Katya looks between them. Trixie’s still for a moment and Katya almost expects her to say something, but then she walks around to the other side of the table. Her knees bump against Katya’s when she sits down opposite her. Katya reaches for her purse in an attempt to hide the flush she can feel in her cheeks, then realises she put her cigarettes in her jacket pocket. “Trixie? Can I get my cigarettes?” she asks. Trixie’s picked up her phone again and she’s sucking on her straw, but her eyes snap up to look at Katya.

“Oh, sure.” She digs her hands around in Katya’s pockets and Katya winces, imagining the crap that’s in there, her keys and loose change, old receipts and gum wrappers and god knows what else that she’s never thrown out. Trixie finally hands her the pack and Katya murmurs her thanks, flips it open and takes out a cigarette.

“You want one?” she asks Alaska, holds out the pack to her.

“I’m quitting,” Alaska says, but rolls her eyes when Katya just jabs the pack towards her, takes one anyway. “You’re a bad influence,” she says, takes Katya’s lighter from her before she can even use it.

“Me? That’s fucking rich,” Katya says, holds her hand out for the lighter.

“Oh, come on. I remember some of the things you got up to here in this very smoking area back in the day,” Alaska says, sets her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands to add to the nostalgic effect.

“Sounds like there’s some stories I need to hear,” Trixie says, setting down her phone.

“No, you don’t. She’s just being dramatic, she’s even worse than Ginger. You saw her up there – she was a fucking theater major. You can’t listen to anything she says,” Katya says quickly. “Besides, you can’t get mad at me for saying we’re old and say shit like ‘back in the day’ at the same time, it’s hypocritical,” she adds, looking over at Alaska.

“Why won’t you let me live? I’m tired, I’ve had a long day, I don’t need this kind of bullying,” Alaska whines.

“Oh, sure,” Katya snorts, “a long day of sitting on a bus and then, what, putting on makeup and getting up on stage? You love every minute of it.”

“Please. I have to deal with Willam and the others, my job is _hard_ ,” Alaska insists.

“Is that why we’re not inside watching them perform?” Katya asks. Alaska shrugs.

“D’s totally wasted, anyway, I doubt she can remember any of her words, and they took Willam’s hoverboard thing away after she fell off it too many times when she was high,” she says, “so you’re better off looking on youtube for some of the better shows we did earlier on the road. Tonight’s probably a shitshow.”

“I’m sure they’d be really happy to hear their opener talking shit on them,” Trixie says. She sounds unimpressed by Alaska.

“I’m not saying anything that isn’t true,” Alaska says. She takes a long drag of her cigarette; when Katya looks between them, it seems like there’s some kind of stand off going on between them. “Anyway, I don’t think they’re going to be working together much longer once we’ve finished these dates,” Alaska finishes eventually.

“What does that mean for you?” Katya asks, trying to guide the conversation out of dangerous territory.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. I work hard, I can make it work,” Alaska says. She’s smiling, looking right at Trixie. Trixie rolls her eyes, picks up her phone again. Alaska looks back over at Katya. “I thought you were bringing that girl from work with you tonight. What’s her name, the tall one who was always hitting on you when I was there.”

“Violet,” Trixie says without looking up.

“Her. I liked her, where is she? Or Jinkx, she was funny,” Alaska says. She glances over at Trixie like she’s looking for her reaction, seems a little deflated to see she’s still focused on her phone.

“She’s never hit on me!” Katya splutters. Alaska raises an eyebrow at her; it’s all the more effective for how artfully it’s drawn on. “She’s busy, she has classes and deadlines.”

“Ugh, she’s still a baby. Don’t you miss college?” Alaska asks. She extends her arm, lets her cigarette dangle from her fingers precariously close to Trixie’s hand. When Trixie realises she glares at Alaska, gets a sweet smile in return as Alaska moves her hand to tap her cigarette against the ash tray in the middle of the table.

Katya shrugs. “I don’t know. Not really.”

“God, I do. We had so much fun,” Alaska says wistfully.

“Seems like you’re having fun now,” Katya points out.

“Mm. Are you?” she asks.

Katya reaches for her drink, doesn’t say anything.

She’s tipsy enough that she can tell that she’s not feeling the chill in the air, can feel the slight buzz around the edges of her brain, but she’s not drunk enough to miss that Alaska and Trixie are butting heads. She doesn’t understand why, would have expected them to get on great.

“Hey,” she says to Trixie, leans over to tap her wrist.

“What?” Trixie says. For a second her expression seems almost confrontational, but then she softens. “Sorry. What’s up?” She sets down her phone and Katya glances down at its screen without really thinking about what she’s doing. She’d figured maybe it was Kim still, but apparently Trixie’s been texting someone called Adore. There’s a lump in Katya’s throat, but she forces it down, makes herself look up and meet Trixie’s gaze.

“You were trying to tell me something before,” she reminds her.

“Oh.” Trixie glances over at Alaska, who’s taken another cigarette out of Katya’s pack and is watch them as she lights it. “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter.”

“Are you sure?” Katya asks, stomach sinking. Trixie nods.

“Positive. It’s fine.” Her phone buzzes on the table and she picks it up again.

Katya holds back a sigh, drags her straw around the melted ice and last inch of her drink left in the glass. She feels like the night started out so well, things were so easy between her and Trixie, but now she feels like it’s been ruined. She’s ready to leave.

“Come on,” she says, elbows Alaska’s side. “Jesus, how padded are you? Can you even feel that?”

“Eh. Not really,” Alaska says, shrugs and pokes her own exaggerated hip. “It looks good, right?”

“Yeah,” Katya says, then pushes herself up to standing. “Come on, let’s go. I have work in the morning and I still haven’t made up the couch for you.”

“Bitch, I’m not sleeping on the couch. I helped you find that couch, I know how lumpy it is,” Alaska says. She sways a little when she stands up and Katya grabs her arm to keep her steady.

“Sure, sure,” Katya says. Hopefully Alaska will be a little less wilful about it after the cab ride home and Katya can tip her onto the couch when they get in.

Katya tries to lead Alaska inside but she stops still, pulls a face and reaches up to her hair, fiddles at her hairline and then peels back the lace of her wig until she can take it off. “There are so many bobby pins sticking into my head right now,” she says, starts pulling them out and letting them drop to the floor. Katya sighs, crouches down to pick them up. Trixie does too, drops them into Katya’s open palm.

“Thanks,” Katya murmurs, straightens up again. Alaska’s pulling her dark hair out the topknot its been held up in, and it flops across her eyes once it’s free. “Are you done showing off now?” Katya asks, irritation flaring up in her chest. She feels like Alaska’s trying to screw with her but can’t figure out why.  

“I need to get my things,” she whines.

“You get your things, I’ll get us an Uber,” Katya promises. Alaska looks like bambi as she wanders off towards the dressing rooms behind the stage, wig hanging from her fingertips by her side.  “I’m sorry about her,” Katya says to Trixie.

“What?” she replies, squints at Katya. The crowd’s thinned out a lot but the music’s still loud, Katya can barely hear her over the noise. She feels old and tired and out of place, craves the peace and quiet of her balcony, her lumpy couch, even the store.

“I said I’m sorry about her,” she says, raises her voice a little and leans in closer to Trixie.

“Oh,” Trixie says. Her warm hand touches Katya’s bicep, fingertips brush under the edge of her sleeve. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve seen how much time I have to spend with Pearl, I can deal with people trying to annoy me.” She’s close enough that Katya can feel her breath against her ear and it sends shivers running down the back of her neck.

“I don’t think she’s trying to,” she says, but Trixie gives her a withering look. “ Okay, I don’t know _why_ she’s trying to,” she corrects. Trixie laughs humourlessly, and Katya feels it brush against her hair.

“It’s fine.”

“I should get an Uber,” Katya says. Trixie takes half a step back and drops her hand from Katya’s arm. She can still feel the warmth of her hand on her skin.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Don’t you want to share?” Katya asks.

“It’s fine, I can get my own.”

“You shouldn’t go by yourself,” Katya says. It’s part protectiveness, part unwillingness to let Trixie go just yet. Some small part of her is hoping that she can still figure out some way to salvage the night if she just has a little more time.

“I’m a big girl, I can get a cab by myself,” Trixie says.

“Doesn’t mean you have to. Besides, it’ll be cheaper if we split it,” Katya argues. Trixie sighs.

“Okay, sure. Thanks.”

The upside to Alaska’s tipsy state is that Katya manages to manoeuvre her into the front seat of the Uber, leaving her to share the back with Trixie.

“Do you wanna tell me,” she starts to say as the car pulls away, but Alaska reaches around the back of her seat and thumps Katya’s knee.

“Isn’t that the place we went to with those girls from your class? Remember, after you handed in your last essay?”

“Sure,” Katya says, swats Alaska’s hand away.

“I miss this place,” Alaska sighs.

“No one made you leave,” Katya says before she can help herself.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Alaska whines.

Katya wants to pull her knees up to her chest, curl up into a tight ball and pretend none of this is happening.

When they pull up outside Trixie’s building it doesn’t seem like she can undo her seatbelt quickly enough.

“It was nice to meet you!” Alaska says. Trixie ignores her, leans over in the car doorway once she’s standing on the sidewalk.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says to Katya.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Katya says.

“It was fun.” Trixie’s smile is too tight, her voice a little too stilted for the words to ring true. She pushes the door shut and Katya can’t help but watch the sway of her hips as she walks off towards her door.

“I’m getting in the back,” Alaska decides, fumbles to open her door.

“Please just stay there,” Katya sighs.

“You know she’s still got your jacket,” Alaska points out, grabbing onto the inside of the door to stop herself falling onto the ground when she gets it open.

Katya waves a hand, ready to forget it – she’s seeing Trixie tomorrow at work, she can get it then – but then she remembers.

“Shit,” she sighs, opens her door and scrambles out after Trixie. “Trixie!” she calls out, sees her stop a few paces from her door.

“Is everything okay?” she asks when she turns to face her. Her eyes are a little brighter than before, expression a little more open.

“My keys are in my jacket,” Katya says. Trixie stares at her for a moment. A moment longer. Then she barks out a laugh, shakes her head.

“Of course they are,” she murmurs, shrugs the jacket off. “Here.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s fine,” Trixie says, holds it out for her to take. Katya steps closer and takes it from her, grips tightly at the fabric with both hands. There’s a little smile on her face but she looks guarded again, tired.

“Thank you for tonight,” Katya says, almost desperate. She doesn’t want to leave her.

“Thanks for asking me,” Trixie says. When Katya doesn’t move, she steps in closer.

Her arms wrapping around Katya’s shoulders are warm and soft. Her hair brushes against Katya’s cheek, tickles her nose a little, and she still smells of her sweet perfume even if most of it’s worn off by now. Katya only lets herself hesitate for a fraction of a second before she winds her arms around Trixie’s middle, squeezes her just a little in a hug.

Trixie pulls back more quickly than Katya wants her to, but before she does she feels her lips press against her cheek.

“Goodnight, Katya,” she says. Katya knows that she’s staring at her but she can’t help herself.

 _I’m sorry_ , she wants to say again, _I’m sorry tonight went so badly, I just wanted to spend time with you. I like being around you and I want it to mean what I wish it did_.

“I – I’ll see you tomorrow,” Katya says instead. Trixie’s taken her own keys out of her purse, and when Katya looks over her shoulder on the way back to the car she’s already let herself inside.

Alaska’s climbed into the nearest passenger door, her face practically pressed against the window. Katya closes her eyes for a moment, pinches the bridge of her nose just under her glasses. She’s glad she didn’t wear her contacts, her eyes feel dry enough as it is after the long night.

“Move over,” she says when she opens the door, pushes Alaska onto the other side of the seat.

“You have lipstick on you,” Alaska says. When Katya looks over at her she’s grinning, her entire face lit up.

“I don’t know why you look so happy about it, since you spent the whole night antagonising her,” she says. She looks out of the window as they start moving towards her apartment. She doesn’t want to look at Alaska in case she says something she’ll regret, even though Alaska’s probably drunk enough that there’s a good chance she won’t remember in the morning.

“I know. She hates me, doesn’t she?” Alaska says gleefully.

“Why are you so happy about it?” Katya asks, mystified.

“Katya, she was so _jealous_! She’s so into you! You have to tell me everything, what’s going on with her?”

“Oh my god, there’s nothing going on! Why does everyone keep saying that?” Katya bursts out, whips her head around to face her.

“Oh, because that makes it _so_ convincing. There’s nothing going on but apparently everyone else except for you thinks there is, is that right?” Alaska asks. Katya can’t bear her smug tone.

“You’re drunk and you just spent the whole night trying to make my life a nightmare, can you please just shut up?” she asks.

“Sure. So you don’t have feelings for her, then?” Alaska replies.

Katya looks out of the window again. She waits a moment, hopes desperately that Alaska might be drunk enough to move on, but she knows better. “It doesn’t matter if I do. We’re just friends,” she says finally.

“Katya. Look at me.” Katya holds off for a moment until Alaska gives her shoulder a shake. Her bony fingers digging into her skin makes her miss Trixie’s warm touch. “She just came to a terrible show with you just to spend time with you. She hates me because she thinks we’re sleeping together, or that we used to sleep together, or whatever—”

“You know what, I wish my love life was a fucking _fraction_ as active as everyone seems to be convinced it is. That’d solve all of my problems,” Katya grumbles.

“Do you really wish that?” Alaska asks. Katya flounders, but Alaska pushes on. “You’re being an idiot. That girl likes you! I saw that hug, that wasn’t a friend hug,” Alaska insists.

“You’re drunk, I don’t trust your judgement.”

“I’m not that drunk,” Alaska says.

“Drunk enough.”

“Why are you so in denial about this?”

“I’m not in denial!” Katya insists. They come to a stop outside of her building and she’s never been so grateful to get out of a car.

“You are! You’re literally running away from this conversation!” Alaska says.

“I’m not running away. It’s cold and I want to go inside,” Katya says. Alaska stops to tug her bags out of the car, and Katya rolls her eyes. She goes over and takes them from her, swinging them easily over her shoulder.

“I’m not done,” Alaska tells her as they climb the stairs.

“I’m so glad,” Katya says through gritted teeth. When they get into her apartment she flicks on the lights, kicks off her heels, then drops Alaska’s bags on the floor by the couch. “I’ll get you a blanket—”

“I’m not sleeping on the couch,” Alaska interrupts. When Katya glances over at her she’s looking around the apartment with something like horror on her face.

“What’s wrong with you? Not as good as the Holiday Inns they’ve been putting you up in everywhere else?” Katya says, not quite able to keep the bite out of her voice.

“This place is exactly the same,” Alaska says quietly. Katya shrugs.

“What’s your point?”

“Katya, I haven’t been here in, what? Almost two years? And I said the same thing then! Have you even changed anything since you moved in?”

“Sure. There’s…uh…I got…” Katya looks around, wracking her brain to think of something. “I changed the blinds in the bedroom.”

“The broken ones?”

“Yeah. That’s change!” Katya says, does her best not to sound defensive. “What exactly were you expecting?”

Alaska shakes her head. “I don’t know,” she admits. She sounds a little sad. “I need to shower,” she says after a moment.

“Sure, you know where it is. I’m going for a cigarette,” Katya replies. She grabs her cigarettes from her bag and goes to the balcony, pulls the sliding door open with a little more force than is absolutely necessary.

Her head ends up in her hands once she’s outside with a lit cigarette between her fingers. She’s still trying to understand Alaska’s bizarre scheme, her certainty that Trixie doesn’t like her because she’s jealous. Jealous of what? Of their friendship? It makes no sense to Katya.

_I wish she would, I—_

“No,” she says aloud, squeezes her eyes shut. “No. Three,” she says, lets her voice drop to a whisper, “two. One. No, not now.”

Katya finishes her cigarette and makes herself close the door carefully behind her, goes into the bedroom. She changes into an old t-shirt and shorts while Alaska’s still in the bathroom the noisy pipes of her shower rattling through the walls. As she clears her rejected outfit choices off of the bed, she spots her notebook lying on the table by the side of her bed. She scrambles to grab it, tucks the folded pages of notes into the front and puts it into the drawer.

“Your shower is so bad,” Alaska calls from outside the room.

“I’m sure you’ll live,” Katya replies. She ducks into the bathroom to brush her teeth while Alaska rummages through her bags by the couch. By the time she comes out Alaska’s sitting on her bed, wet hair slicked back. She looks more like herself now without her layers and layers of padding and makeup, more like Katya’s best friend again than glamorous drag queen.

Katya doesn’t bother trying to fight her about sleeping on the couch; they spent enough years living together that one night sharing a bed isn’t going to kill her, even if she’s still kind of mad at Alaska.

“So,” Alaska says when Katya climbs into bed.

“What?” Katya asks. She flicks the lights off, determined to try to head Alaska off before she can try to get into a deep conversation with her. She’d been hoping that she was drunk enough to pass out quickly, but her shower’s sobered her up.

“When are you going to do something with your life?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Alaska! You don’t get to come here after months of barely even talking to me and fuck up my life, spend the whole night being a bitch to someone I have to work with tomorrow and then insult my life, I’m not doing this with you.” Katya’s breathing is heavy and her words come out in an angry hiss.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Alaska says after a beat of silence.

“Alaska—”

“I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. I know I’ve been a bad friend recently, but I’m still your best friend and I’m worried about you. I’d be an even worse friend if I didn’t say anything to you,” Alaska says. She sounds so calm that it makes Katya even angrier.

“What exactly do you want me to do, Alaska? Not everyone wants to spend their life travelling around on a bus with a bunch of drag queens. I have a good job, I pay all my bills, I can afford my own apartment. I’m good, there’s nothing wrong with my life.”

“Katya.”

Katya can just about make out Alaska’s eyes in the darkness. She looks away from them, fists gripping the sheets tightly.

“I mean it! I don’t know what your problem is.”

“My problem is that your life hasn’t changed in five years!” Alaska says. She reaches out to touch Katya’s arm but she pulls it back, shifts an inch further away from her on the bed. Alaska sighs. “There were so many things you said you wanted to do! You said you were going to do this place up, or find somewhere better. I thought you were talking about finding a new place with that girl you knew from Boston? What happened to her?”

“She moved to LA. Apparently it’s what everyone does these days,” Katya says with a glare.

“I just thought you were going to do something about this place! It was supposed to be temporary when you moved in, surely—”

“And whose fault is it that I had to move into the first apartment I could find?” Katya snaps.

“Five years ago! You can’t blame me for everything, I didn’t make you stay here all this time,” Alaska says. The bed shifts and the lights flicker back on overhead.

“I have to be up for work in less than five hours, I don’t want to do this with you,” Katya says, reaches to switch the lights off again. Alaska grabs her wrist.

“I have to leave in the morning and I don’t want to go without talking about this. I’m worried about you, okay? I don’t want you to look back in another five years and wish someone had made you see sense earlier.” Alaska’s voice is softer now. Katya takes her arm back but doesn’t touch the light switch. “Just. When was the last time you changed _anything_ in your life? You’ve been in the same job all this time, living in the same apartment, I bet you still ride that same bike—”

“It’s good for the environment, fuck off—”

“—and you still go to the same yoga classes down the block, am I right?”

“There’s nothing wrong with having a routine,” Katya says, lifts her chin a little.

“Right, sure, but you can change _something_. If you can’t get a roommate, why don’t you redecorate this place? Or I thought you were talking about getting a dog, that’d give you some company around here.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking, I can’t have a full time job and live in a tiny apartment and get a dog, it’s not fair,” Katya says.

“Plenty of people do it! And would it be such a bad thing if it gave you some kind of incentive to move or look for a new job?”

“Think of all the different things that could go wrong with that,” Katya points out.

“So what! God, Katya, you can’t just spend the rest of your life refusing to take any risks.”

“Oh, because you’re the poster child for risky decisions paying off?” Katya bites back. Alaska blinks at her.

“Is this about Sharon?” she asks.

“I’m sorry,” Katya says, voice softer, “I wasn’t trying to throw her in your face.”

“No, it’s fine. Katya, it’s been long enough, I’ve moved on. Anyway, maybe things didn’t work out with Sharon, but it doesn’t mean I regret moving out to LA with her. I wouldn’t be getting to do what I’m doing now if I hadn’t, so I’m glad I did it even if the outcome wasn’t what I expected it to be. You know?”

“Yeah,” Katya says quietly.

“Besides, Katya, come on. It’s not like I’m telling you to move across the country on a whim, just do _something_. Fuck, start with asking out the girl who’s so clearly smitten with you!”

“I…” Katya trails off, draws her knees up to her chest.

“What’s the worst thing that can happen if you ask her out?” Alaska asks.

Katya’s mind is racing. _She could say no, she could say no and laugh, she could tell everyone at work and they could laugh, she could not want to be friends with Katya anymore and she could lose someone important to her, the others at work might judge her for it, she could say yes and then realise she’s made a mistake, she—_

“Katya,” Alaska says.

“I don’t know,” Katya lies. Alaska looks at her closely for a moment, then heaves out a sigh.

“It’s late,” she says in a low voice. She switches off the light and lie down on her back. Katya does the same, doing her best to silently shut her brain down where it’s still whirring more quickly than she can keep up with.

“Are you still seeing your therapist?” Alaska asks into the darkness a minute later.

“No,” Katya says, “she moved away a few months ago. I haven’t found a new one yet.”

“Listen, Katya, I know it’s hard when your anxiety gets bad—”

“Do you?” Katya cuts in, can’t keep all of her bitterness out of her words. She doesn’t think Alaska could possibly understand what it feels like, as much as she’s tried to be helpful over the years.

“Maybe not. But if there’s anything I can do, I will, okay? I promise. I’ll be better at picking up my phone.” She sounds sincere, so Katya swallows back the urge to retort and nods.

“Thank you,” she says into the darkness. She feels Alaska’s leg nudge against hers and then she’s hugging her. Katya sighs, pats Alaska’s shoulder lightly. “I’m fine,” she promises her.

“I know I’ve been a shitty friend,” Alaska starts.

“Really, it’s fine, it doesn’t matter,” Katya says, but Alaska shakes her head against her neck.

“It does. I’ve just been so busy, but it’s not an excuse.”

“It’s fine! Jesus, I’m just glad _one_ of us has enough of a life going on to be too busy to talk all the time,” Katya jokes.

Alaska sighs and pulls back from her. “Katya…”

“Oh god, please, I was joking,” she says.

“Just do something! Please, for my sake.”

“Well, when you put it _that_ way,” Katya drawls sarcastically.

“Anything! Paint this damn apartment, get a new couch that someone can actually sit on comfortably, get a dog, ask out that damn girl!”

“Well,” Katya says slowly, “I have always wanted a dog.” There’s a groan from beside her and then Alaska’s pillow is whacking her across the chest. “Hey! I thought we were supposed to be grown-ups now?”

“Fuck you. If you don’t ask out that girl I’m going to come into the store before we leave tomorrow and do it for you.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“You probably would,” Katya agrees, rubs at her temples with her fingertips. She doesn’t even want to know what time it is, but she’s sure it’s way too late to still be having this conversation. “I don’t know why everyone’s so certain that she’s into me.”

“Katya. Do you trust me?” Alaska asks.

“Against my better judgement.”

“I’m serious.”

Katya sighs and rolls onto her side to face her. “Yes, Alaska, I trust you.”

“I know you, okay? I’ve known you for almost ten years – fuck, we really are old – and I know what you’re like. You have the most ridiculous self-preservation instinct, worse than anyone I’ve ever met. As soon as you get the first idea that someone likes you you freak the fuck out and shut it down. I don’t know what you’re so afraid of but you always do it, whether it’s because you like them and you’re scared of what could change or what you stand to lose or because—” Alaska pauses, huffs out a laugh and rolls onto her back to look up at the ceiling, “you don’t feel the same way and you don’t want to have to deal with the consequences. And we all know that’s definitely not the case with this girl.”

Katya watches Alaska silently for a moment. When her eyes flicker over to meet Katya’s, she says, “Alaska—”

“Girl, don’t worry about it,” Alaska cuts in, shakes her head. “Maybe I was pretty cut up about things five years ago, but you’re not about to break my heart now because you never had feelings for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Katya whispers.

“It was a long time ago. I’m good, really. My point wasn’t to make you feel bad, I just want you to think hard about this before you let this girl get away from you. Because you obviously care about her a lot, and she likes you! And I know you know that, deep down.”

Katya’s nails are digging into her palms.

_I wish she would, I wish she would, I—_

Her instinct is to shut the thought down, but she takes a deep breath instead. Thinks of all the times Trixie’s gone out of her way to bring her a drink or just sought out her company, checked in on her. Asked her what her plans were for the weekend.

How she came with her to see a show she knew nothing about, and spent the whole time sitting out in the cold with her.

 _She’s probably just being friendly_ , she thinks, squeezes her eyes shut as her chest tightens uncomfortably.

_But what if she’s not?_

“I…Alaska…”

“Just ask her out for a drink! Fuck her! You don’t have to marry her and spend your whole life with her, just do something! See what happens!” Alaska rolls over to face her again, expression serious. “I just want you to be happy, okay?”

“I know,” Katya says quietly. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” Alaska says.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Alaska’s quiet after that, and Katya’s sure she must have fallen asleep. She can feel exhaustion pulling at her own brain but she’s too wide awake to drift off yet.

“Hey,” Alaska murmurs.

“What?”

“Have you written anything recently?”

Katya thinks of her notebook, pages covered in writing, the notes tucked in between them.

“No,” she lies. She’s shared enough tonight.

 

***

 

“You look like death,” Ginger says when Katya gets to work in the morning.

“Good morning to you too,” Katya says wearily. She’s not sure how she made it here on time, let alone early enough to meet Ginger outside for their first unofficial smoke break. She has no idea what time she fell asleep but she knows it was too late, feels like she can barely keep her eyes open.

“Are you hungover? Did you cycle here still drunk? Is that even legal?”

“Please shut up,” Katya groans. She’s still worn out from Alaska’s incessant talking all night; she was still passed out across Katya’s bed when she left the apartment that morning, barely waking up enough to promise to put her spare key back through the letterbox when she leaves before knocking out again.

There’s a slight tremor to her hands as she locks up her bike. She huffs out a sigh through her nose, focuses on steadying them, then steps away once she’s done.

She’s going to do it, she’s decided. She’s going to talk to Trixie.

They’ve already seen each other outside of work once, there’s a precedent now – Katya carefully pushes away the memories of how awkward things got with Trixie and Alaska last night.

She has to try. She hasn’t been able to stop replaying all the little moments she thought about when she was falling asleep last night in her head all morning – the little smiles Trixie gives her when she sees her in the morning, the way her hand always seems to manage to brush against Katya’s, the blush she’s seen to her cheeks when they talk.

She has to try.

“What’s up with you? Are you sure you’re not hungover?” Ginger asks. Katya shakes her head, holds out her hand for Ginger’s lighter. “I want to hear all about last night, then. Did you have fun with Trixie? What did she think of Alaska?”

“It was…interesting,” Katya says, lights up her cigarette and hands her her lighter back.

“And…?” Ginger trails off expectantly. Katya shrugs. “God, you’re so useless.” Ginger sighs heavily. “Listen. I figured I should tell you, rather than letting you find out when you go in,” she says.

“Oh god. What’s going on?”

Ginger rubs the back of her neck, looks vaguely uncomfortable for a moment. “I just saw Shea on my way out here.” She hesitates and her eyes meets Katya’s for just a moment before she looks down at the cigarette in her hands.

“And?” Katya demands. Ginger sighs again, throws her cigarette to the ground and stubs it out with her toe before turning to face Katya properly.

“Trixie handed in her notice this morning.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you okay?" Trixie asks. She looks almost hesitant, standing with her back to the door so there's a good few feet of space between them. 
> 
> "Me? I'm fine! Totally fine," Katya says with far too much enthusiasm to be believable. She's sure for a moment that Trixie's going to call her out on it, but then she just raises an eyebrow and extends the coffee cup in her hands out towards her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's been a long time since the last chapter went up, so thank so you much to everyone who's stuck around for this part! things have been really busy for me this month but i've been so excited to get this chapter out; i hope you enjoy it!
> 
> as always, thank you to all of the wonderful people who've cheered me on while i was writing this. all of you who have left lovely comments and sent me asks and messages on tumblr, you've encouraged me more than you probably realise you have. and [matilda_queen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/matilda_queen), [djoodigarland](http://archiveofourown.org/users/djoodigarland) and [DahliasForKatya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dahliasforkatya), you're all amazing ladies and i love and appreciate you so much. 
> 
> come say hi @[crackerdyke](http://www.crackerdyke.tumblr.com) on tumblr, and please drop me a comment below if you enjoy this chapter!

Katya feels like she stares at Ginger for hours. She’s trying to make sense of the words, desperately hoping that somehow her sleep-deprived brain managed to misunderstand what she said.  
  
“She quit?” she says eventually, when Ginger starts looking seriously concerned at her gormlessness.  
  
“That’s what Shea said. She seemed pretty down about it, but that makes sense. I mean, now that she’s had someone work there who actually knows what she’s doing, how the hell is she going to go back to just having Pearl there?” Ginger says.  
  
It isn’t until Ginger frowns that Katya realises she was waiting for her to laugh. She forces a weak smile onto her face, doesn’t even bother trying to get out a laugh when she knows she won’t be able to manage it.  
  
Trixie’s leaving, and she has no idea how to comprehend it; it doesn’t help that she can’t be running on any more than a couple of hours’ sleep. She’s going to go from seeing Trixie almost every single day to potentially – probably – never seeing her again.  
  
“Are you okay?” Ginger asks. She sounds soft, and Ginger never sounds soft, so it’s enough to make Katya realise how pathetic she’s being.  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s fine. She said this was only temporary, it wasn’t like she was ever going to stick around here that long,” Katya says with a nod. Ginger reaches over and squeezes her bicep gently, and for a horrible moment Katya thinks she’s going to try to hug her. She forces another smile onto her face and takes half a step backwards away from her, and thankfully Ginger drops her hand. “Do you mind if I stay out here for another cigarette? We’ve got time still, right?” Katya says.  
  
“Sure,” Ginger says with a nod, “no problem. More hungover than you thought?”  
  
“I guess so,” Katya lies. She’s never felt more sober in her life.  
  
“Okay. I’ll see you inside in a minute,” Ginger says. A glance over at her lets Katya see the briefest flash of pity in her expression, but then she’s turning around, pushing the door to the store open.  
  
Katya stares at the door for a moment, watching Ginger make her way through the store and start turning everything on. Then she turns back around, brings her arms up to wrap around herself, squeezing her elbows.  
  
Trixie’s leaving.  
  
_I wish she would, I wish she would, I wish—_  
  
Because of last night?  
  
Because of Katya?  
  
Katya shakes her head a little, tries her best to clear her thoughts.  
  
She fumbles to take out a cigarette, lights it and pushes her hands into her armpits, lets herself sink down onto her haunches with her back against the wall, eyes closed.

  
***

 

When Katya goes inside five minutes later, Ginger silently pushes a coffee cup towards her across the counter. Katya manages a grateful half-smile, lips pulled up just a little.  
  
Once the cup's cradled between her palms, she looks down to see her name written on its side, barely legible in Pearl's messy scrawl.

  
***

 

“I wasn’t sure if you'd actually come in today. I thought maybe you’d ended up calling out or something, I haven’t seen you all morning.”  
  
Katya closes her eyes at the sound of Trixie’s voice behind her. The door through to the back room swings shut with a bang and Katya rubs a hand over her eyes where her elbows are planted on the railings, cigarette between her lips.  
  
“It’s been busy in there,” she lies, finally taking her cigarette out of her mouth once she's taken a drag and turning around to face Trixie.  
  
Katya’s felt like a zombie all morning, just about managing to go through the motions as she moves around the store.  
  
It's the lack of sleep, she told herself after spending ten minutes trying to find a book for an online order only to realise she was searching by the author’s first name instead of last.  
  
It’s everything playing on her mind from her conversation with Alaska, she told herself when she couldn't find her lighter and had to ask Ginger to borrow hers, only to have it pointed out to her in a very slow, slightly concerned voice that she was holding it in her hand with her cigarettes. She'd laughed it off, let Ginger and Jinkx think she's hungover and that's why she's so spacey, feeling silently grateful Violet isn't working so that she doesn't have to deal with any commentary from her.  
  
She's tired and Alaska threw a lot at her last night, that's why she's so out of it. That's all, she tells herself.  
  
_Trixie's leaving_ , a voice that sounds suspiciously like Alaska's whispers in the back of her mind. _She’s leaving, you missed your chance_. Katya takes a sharp inhale of her cigarette, tries her hardest to block the thoughts out.  
  
"Are you okay?" Trixie asks. She looks almost hesitant, standing with her back to the door so there's a good few feet of space between them.  
  
"Me? I'm fine! Totally fine," Katya says with far too much enthusiasm to be believable. She's sure for a moment that Trixie's going to call her out on it, but then she just raises an eyebrow and extends the coffee cup in her hands out towards her.  
  
"Okay," she says, doesn't sound all that convinced but Katya can't blame her, "well, I didn't know if you'd had any coffee yet this morning since I hadn't seen you, so I figured I'd bring you one."  
  
"Thanks," Katya says, takes the last drag of her cigarette before stubbing it out and using her freed up hand to take the cup from her. Hopefully the extra caffeine will help wake her up; she drank the coffee Ginger brought her that morning so quickly her throat was burning but barely felt like it had any effect. It's almost eleven but she'd bet good money that Alaska's probably still fast asleep, and she feels painfully jealous of her.  
  
"So, um. I don't know if anyone told you, maybe not, but I wanted to come tell you that I'm leaving," Trixie says. She looks a little awkward, hands twisting together in front of her, and it's not something Katya's used to. Trixie usually seems so confident and self-assured, Katya can't think of any time she's seen her like this.  
  
"Ginger told me this morning," Katya says. She's holding her coffee in both hands, glad for its presence to stop her fidgeting.  
  
"Oh," Trixie says, surprise and then something like hurt flashing across her expression for a moment. "I thought you didn't know. You didn't come to see me."  
  
Katya has no idea what to say.  
  
I can't believe I'm not going to get to see you every day anymore?  
  
I'm scared I pushed you away by inviting you last night?  
  
I don't want you to go?  
  
"It's been really busy," she repeats lamely instead.  
  
“Oh,” Trixie says again. There’s a heavy silence between them, and Katya brings her coffee up to her lips. She wants to ask Trixie what happened, what made her quit, but she’s scared that she might not want to hear the answer. “Well, anyway,” Trixie says finally, cuts into the awkward pause, “working here was only ever supposed to be temporary until I figured things out.”  
  
“And now you have?” Katya replies.  
  
“Kind of. They offered me a paid gig at my internship,” Trixie says. “That’s—”  
  
“That’s what you were trying to tell me last night,” Katya realises. A wave of relief washes over her; at least this was all set in place before the disaster that was their evening with Alaska. "I'm sorry, you should have told me. We could have been celebrating."  
  
“Yeah. It’s fine, it wasn’t a good time,” Trixie says with a shrug.  
  
"You must be excited, right?" Katya says. It's a little easier to push down the sadness in her gut at the thought of not getting to see Trixie anymore now that she knows it doesn't have anything to do with last night.  
  
"Sure. I'll probably end up earning less money and working less hours, and I'll probably still be making people coffee, but it's better than working in a store for the rest of my life," Trixie says.  
  
There's a moment of silence and Trixie's eyes widen at the implications of her words. Katya does her best to keep a straight face, tucking one arm across her chest and slowly raising an eyebrow.  
  
"What are you trying to say?" she says, can feel the corner of her lip twitching as Trixie's mouth opens and shuts like a goldfish, clearly trying to figure out how to fix what she said. Katya doesn't think she can hold her grin back any longer and brings her hand up to cover her mouth but it's too late, Trixie's cottoned on and then they're both laughing.  
  
"Shut up! You know what I meant," Trixie says, shaking her head and then tucking a few stray curls back behind her ear.  
  
"Do I?" Katya teases and Trixie rolls her eyes. "When are you going?" she asks.  
  
"Probably not until the end of the month unless Shea can find someone to replace me any sooner. I don't want to leave her in the lurch."  
  
"She's probably crying at the thought of going back to just having Pearl around to help her," Katya says. Trixie lets out a snort of laughter.  
  
"Pearl doesn't help with anything, she's probably more of a hindrance than anything. They basically just pay her to hang out here." Katya laughs at that and Trixie smiles, then glances back at the door. "Speaking of Pearl, I really should go back in before she breaks something."  
  
"Sure," Katya says. When Trixie goes to grab the door handle, she says, "I really am sorry about last night."  
  
"Don't worry about it," Trixie says, though her smile's straightened out a little.  
  
"No, I'm sorry. It was a mess, I don't know why Alaska was like that."  
  
"Hmm," Trixie hums, one eyebrow pulled up a little, "she seemed pretty jealous to me."  
  
"No," Katya says quickly, shakes her head and wishes she could strangle Alaska for the state she was in last night. "She's not jealous. I think she just spends so much time around drag queens now that she forgets that not every situation has to be as dramatic as possible," she says.  
  
"Oh, I don't know," Trixie says, tilts her head a little as one side of her lips twitch up just a little again, "I like a little drama now and again."  
  
There's a moment of silence again. Things feel a little stilted between them in a way that they never have before, that Katya desperately wants to fix.  
  
"I really should—"  
  
"There's nothing going on between me and Alaska," Katya blurts out just as Trixie tries to speak. Her mouth shuts and her eyebrows raise, eyes widening.  
  
"No?" she says after a beat.  
  
"No," Katya repeats. It feels like her whole face is on fire, like maybe she's telling Trixie something completely unnecessary but she has to put it out there.  
  
"Kind of seemed like maybe Alaska wants there to be," Trixie points out.  
  
"Well, there isn't. And there won't be," Katya promises. Trixie's eyes are still fixed on hers.  
  
"No?" she says again, her voice a little softer now.  
  
"No," Katya says. Trixie's teeth dig into her plump lower lip; Katya's fingers are toying with the edge of the lid on her coffee, popping it in and out of place just for something to keep them occupied. "Look, Trixie. About last night..."  
  
Katya trails off. She doesn't know what to say, doesn't want to throw out the same apologies she's been offering since they were standing outside Trixie's building in the dark.  
  
She can still feel her lips against her cheek.  
  
"It doesn't matter," Trixie says finally, apparently once she's given up on Katya finishing her sentence. "I had fun – I'm glad Violet asked me to go with you," she adds, tone playful.  
  
"Me too," Katya agrees with a little laugh, shakes her head. Trixie's still holding onto the door handle but she doesn't pull it open just yet; she seems to be waiting for something and Katya's not sure what.  
  
She'd been so determined that morning, so prepared to steel herself and ask Trixie out for real. But with everything that's happened it feels like a sign that it isn't the right time. That maybe there isn't going to be a right time.  
  
Can we do something again sometime? she'd wanted to say, without anyone else there to get in the way. I want to spend more time with you, I want to give you the attention you deserve, that I should have given you last night. Let me make it up to you.  
  
Instead, she says, "I'll see you later?"  
  
"Sure," Trixie says after a long moment of silence, her gaze intense but otherwise unreadable to Katya. She gives a tight little nod along with her words, then ducks back into the building.  
  
"Fuck," Katya says under her breath, turns back around to plant her elbows on the railing and drop her forehead into her palm, the coffee Trixie brought out for her still warm in her other hand.

  
***

 

Katya's so caught up in her own exhaustion (and forcing herself not to analyse Trixie's expression from just before she disappeared back inside) that she doesn't realise until it's almost time for her lunch break that she left the notes back at her apartment. Usually she leaves them out for herself so that she doesn't forget them when she wants to take them into the store, but she remembers tucking them away into a drawer so that Alaska wouldn't find them last night.  
  
She briefly considers leaving them until tomorrow, but once her brain catches up and she remembers that it's Friday, which means she won't be at work tomorrow, she decides she'll have to go and get them. She's already had them for a few days; the last thing she wants to do is jeopardise the good thing she has going right now by holding onto the notes for longer than she should. It's been so strange feeling inspired to write again, even when she's waiting to see if she'll get the notes back again. She's always a little on edge wondering if it'll be the last time she sees them, has no idea whether she'd be able to hang onto some shred of the spark that's returned since she first found them. She doesn't want to have to find out just because she's too tired to go home and get them.  
  
So instead of going into the café once Jinkx gets back like she usually would when Trixie's working she heads outside, bag thrown over her shoulder. Pearl's hovering on the sidewalk, cigarette in one hand and the other holding her phone, thumb scrolling across the screen.  
  
"Running away?" she asks.  
  
"Sure," Katya deadpans.  
  
"I don't blame you. You must be pretty brokenhearted, right?" Pearl asks, looking up from her phone for just a second.  
  
"I'm fine," Katya says, doesn't have the energy to pretend not to know what Pearl's talking about. She gets an eyebrow raised in response and rolls her eyes, digs around in her pocket for the key to her bike lock. "You, on the other hand, must be devastated," she says.  
  
"Me?" Pearl says in surprise.  
  
"You might actually have to do your job now if whoever Shea hires isn't willing to do it for you," Katya says.  
  
"Oh, please. I practically run that damn place," Pearl says with a snort. Katya looks at her in silence and Pearl holds her gaze defiantly, brings her cigarette to her lips and inhales slow.  
  
"You're unbelievable," Katya says eventually with a shake of her head.  
  
"Thank you," Pearl says, grinning.  
  
Just as Katya's put her bike lock into her bag and put it back over her shoulder, Trixie appears around the corner on the sidewalk; she must have come out of the main entrance to the café.  
  
"Hey!" she says to Katya, does the briefest double take at finding Pearl lingering outside but just rolls her eyes without comment. "Ginger said you'd left for your break. I thought you were coming into the café?"  
  
Katya shrugs, taps her fingertips against the handlebar of her bike. "I need to sort out a few things at home."  
  
"Oh. Is Alaska still there?" Trixie asks.  
  
"She shouldn't be, she said they were heading off before midday," Katya says. "It's not – there's not—"  
  
"I know, I know," Trixie says, cuts her off with a wave of her hand. "Well, anyway. I guess I'll see you later if you're going out now."  
  
"I'll come get coffee when I come back," Katya promises. Trixie smiles at that.  
  
"Good," she says. Her eyes glance over Katya's bike and she exhales a little laugh. "I can't believe you actually ride a fucking bike everywhere."  
  
"It's good for the environment! Why is everyone picking on my bike all of a sudden?" Katya says, grips the handlebars almost defensively. Trixie grins at her.  
  
"You're such a hippie," she teases.  
  
"She just wants to be a dyke on a bike," Pearl says. Katya had almost forgotten she was there, and from the smirk on Pearl's face she can tell she knows that.  
  
"Shut the fuck up," she says, but Trixie's screeching with laughter so Katya can't help but smile.  
  
"A dyke on a fucking bike, oh my god," Trixie snorts. She shakes her head, takes a step backwards. "I'll leave you to your dyke-cycle. Get it? Dyke? Bike? Bicycle?" she says, eyes bright and wide grin on her face.  
  
"I get it," Katya assures her.  
  
"Good. I'll see you later," Trixie says. Looking over at Pearl, she adds, "Are you coming inside? Shea's been wondering where you are for at least twenty minutes."  
  
"Jesus, at least let me finish my cigarette," Pearl says, puts a new one between her lips and lights it. Trixie sends a disbelieving look Katya's way, lips quirking up into a smile again when Katya just shrugs and pulls a face.  
  
"God, I'm so glad I don't have to put up with you much longer," Trixie says to Pearl. Pearl just smiles at her, and when Trixie turns away she exhales a long cloud of smoke in her direction.  
  
Once Trixie's inside again, Pearl looks over at Katya.  
  
"I wish you two would just fucking bang already," she says, folds her arms in front of her, "and put the rest of us out of our misery. I think Violet's going to go totally insane if you keep us all hanging any longer."  
  
"You know what I wish?" Katya replies, doesn't have the energy to try to pretend she has no idea what Pearl's talking about as she swings her leg over the frame of her bike. "I wish you would fuck off."  
  
"Ooh, burn," Pearl deadpans. Katya flips her off before she leaves.

  
***

 

When Katya gets back to her apartment she finds it's a total mess in the wake of Hurricane Alaska. Everything in the bathroom is in disarray, her toothbrush tossed into the sink – she wonders briefly if Alaska used it and then decides not to think about it too much – and towels tossed onto the floor. There are two half empty coffee cups on the kitchen counter and a note scrawled onto a torn off sheet of paper left beside them.

 

_Don’t think I was too drunk to remember everything we talked about! I’ll call you soon, bitch xoxo_

 

Katya snorts, picks up the note and crumples it in her hands, tosses it neatly into the trash before going to get the notes.

  
***

 

Katya's always surprised by the amount of people who show up to the early morning yoga classes she goes to, especially now that it's getting colder. It's not even light outside yet but the room is almost full, and she finds herself a spot with a little more space near the back corner of the room as everyone sets up. She likes the vantage point from here, gets to people watch in the few minutes before class kicks off – she usually tries to figure out who's at a six thirty am yoga class because they're obnoxiously organised and who else is just there because they're up early every morning whether they want to be or not, like Katya, figure they may as well try to do something productive with their time. The first thing she usually looks for are the bags under the eyes: her own had made her wince when she caught sight of them in her bathroom mirror first thing this morning.  
  
Going to classes before work is something she's fallen out of the habit of doing in the last few months, but the past week has been one full of restless nights that's left her awake well before dawn pretty much every morning so far. It's been almost a week since she left the notes in the store and she hasn't seen them again since, which means that when she wakes up early she doesn't have anything in the apartment to keep her occupied until it's late enough that she can justify going into work. She's learned the hard way over the years that the early hours of the morning are a peak time for her brain to start going into overdrive, so she knows better by now than to let herself get caught up in overthinking things when she first wakes up – she needs to do something, occupy herself with some activity or other that'll stop her fixating on the things going on in her life that she can't do anything about it.  
  
Like Trixie leaving.  
  
Katya sighs to herself, tucks her hair behind her ears and closes her eyes for a moment, determined not to let those kinds of thoughts sneak up on her when she's come to class to get away from them. There's only a minute or two unless class starts, so all she can do is hope that once things get going she'll be able to zone everything else out for a little while. She goes to her bag where she left it propped against the wall just for something to do with herself, rummages through it to make sure that her phone is switched off. 

She has four missed calls from Ginger. She’s still staring down at her phone wondering what the hell is going on when it starts buzzing in her hand, so she quickly grabs her bag and ducks between people to get to the door to the corridor and answers the call.

“Ginger?” 

“Oh, thank god, I was starting to think I was well and truly fucked,” Ginger says, sounds a little breathless and a lot relieved on the other end. 

“What’s going on, did something happen?” Katya asks. 

“Listen, I really need a favour,” Ginger says, “can you cover me today?” 

“I’m already working,” Katya points out. 

“I know, I know, but can you open? Where are you, I hear people,” she says. 

“I’m at the gym, I was about to go to a yoga class,” Katya says. 

“It’s six in the morning,” Ginger says, sounds horrified. “I thought you’d dropped that terrible habit.” 

“Didn’t you say you wanted a favour?” Katya says pointedly. Ginger huffs. 

“Right, sure. Look, I just got a call about an audition later on this morning but it’s in the city, so please can you open for me?” 

Katya glances back at the door to the yoga studio. She can just about hear calm music through it; the class has already started. 

“Sure, it’s fine. Can you drop the keys by?” she asks, starts heading for the entrance to the gym. 

“I’m supposed to get a train in about twenty minutes,” Ginger says. Katya sighs. 

“So you need me to pick them up?” 

“Thanks, that would be amazing,” Ginger says. Before Katya can reply, she adds, “So I’ll see you in ten! Bye, bitch!” 

The line goes dead. Katya looks down at her blank phone screen and wonders for just a moment how this ended up being her life.  
  
It's still freezing outside when she gets to her bike, but thankfully Ginger's apartment isn't too far from the gym. She's only a couple of floors up so she dodges the elevator in favour of the stairs, reaches Ginger's door with a couple of minutes to spare within her ten minute time frame. The door swings open almost immediately after she knocks and Ginger appears in front of her, make-up half finished.  
  
"Thank god, okay, here," she says, thrusts the keys at Katya. "Thanks, I owe you!"  
  
"It's fine. When do you think you'll—" Katya's cut off by the door shutting in her face. "Back," she finishes, "okay, sure, never mind."  
  
Now she's talking to herself. She's sure she's heard something about that being the first sign of madness, but she'd be lying to herself if she didn't acknowledge that there had been plenty of signs before now.

  
***

 

Usually when she opens Katya likes to give herself a little breathing space, arrive earlier than she needs to so that she has time to make sure that everything's set up and she has time to stop for a cigarette and to grab a coffee before they open. Today's it's already gone seven by the time she locks her bike up outside even though she doesn't even stop to get changed, just silently thanks herself for thinking to keep a spare outfit in her locker for these kinds of moments, so once she's unlocked the doors she doesn't stop to smoke or to get changed before she starts on her list of things she needs to do, doesn't bother taking off her jacket before going to switch on all the lights and unlock the doors to the back and the café.  
  
There's the sound of footsteps across the room and for a moment she wonders who the hell is already in the store when she just unlocked the door, but then she looks over and sees Trixie wandering in from the café. She's looking down at her phone, something Katya can't quite see held behind it, tucked in against her palm, and she's chewing gum as she taps quickly at the screen.  
  
"Hey," Katya says. Trixie startles, looks up from her phone and immediately shoves whatever she had in her hand into the pocket of her apron before Katya can figure out what it is. She feels a little bad about making her jump, but also a little pleased with herself given that it's usually the other way around.  
  
"Hey!" Trixie says, her voice a little breathless, slightly higher than usual, but there's already a bright smile pulling at her pink lips, cheeks tinged pink to match. "I didn't realise you were opening today!"  
  
"Neither did I," Katya says, crosses to the registers to start turning everything on, "Ginger called me just now and asked me to open for her."  
  
"She's pretty lucky she can ask you to do that," Trixie says. She crosses the room to lean against the other side of the counter, watches as Katya moves along the row of registers to get everything up and running.  
  
"I'm sure most people would," Katya says with a shrug. Trixie raises an eyebrow.  
  
"Oh, sure. I bet Violet would absolutely jump at the chance to come in early just to help her out," she says in a wry voice and Katya laughs.  
  
"Most people," she repeats. "Max would. Jinkx probably would, if she was awake."  
  
"Can you imagine asking Pearl to come in early? She'd laugh in your face," Trixie says. She's watching Katya set up the end register and after a moment she says, "You're much more organised than Ginger is. Usually she comes in, turns on all the lights and then goes straight back out again for a smoke, doesn't come back for ten minutes."  
  
"Yeah, well, she didn't give me a lot of notice that I needed to get here early. By the time I'd stopped at her place to get the keys I was already running late, so the cigarettes will have to wait," Katya says with a shrug. Trixie hums.  
  
"Still. You're very efficient," Trixie says with a smile that's almost playful. Between them, her phone starts buzzing on the countertop. Katya can see the notifications on the screen: messages from two different group chats with multiple emojis in their names, several from Kim and a whole bunch from someone called Adore. Katya vaguely remembers seeing her name on Trixie’s screen the night they were with Alaska. "Sorry," Trixie murmurs, picks up her phone and unlocks it. Her eyes flicker over the screen and then she lets out a shout of laughter, types back a message before locking her phone again and setting it down on the counter face down.  
  
"Kim?" Katya asks, tries her best to sound innocent and when Trixie tilts her head slightly, looks at her consideringly, she ducks down behind the counter under the guise of making sure there's nothing else she needs to lay out before she can pause for a cigarette.  
  
"No," Trixie says eventually, tapping her neat pink nails against the counter once Katya straightens up again, "a girl from work. She's really great, she's one of the musicians we work with and I'm pretty sure her putting in a good word is most of the reason they offered me a real job there.”  
  
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Katya says, and Trixie snorts.  
  
“Trust me. I know I’ll be good at the job, but they weren’t giving me a ton of opportunities to show them that by keeping me as everyone’s bitch for months. I got people’s fucking dry cleaning,” Trixie says solemnly, eyes widening just a little. She leans closer to Katya across the counter, holds her expression for a second or two before laughing and smacking the counter top with her flat palm. Katya has to laugh just at how amused she is by herself, the way her back arches a little and her head tips back with the force of her laughter. Trixie beams at her, looks so proud of herself, and pushes back her hair where it's fallen forward against her cheek. "But yeah, she's pretty great. She's been bugging me to go out for drinks since she found out they offered me the job, but things have been pretty busy."  
  
"Sounds fun," Katya says, swallows around the lump in her throat. It's good that Trixie has nice co-workers at her new job, someone to fight her corner and ask her out for drinks. It's good, she wants that for her.  
  
"Yeah," Trixie agrees. When Katya looks up at her she's biting her lip, nails still tip-tapping against the counter. Katya looks around for anything else she she needs to, but she's already got pretty much everything under control.  
  
"I should probably go and get changed," she says. She's a little reluctant to leave, but it doesn't feel like a totally bad thing given that she doesn't particularly want to hear any more about the cool girl at Trixie's new job. She shrugs her jacket off her shoulders and tucks it over one arm, tugs the bottom of her sports bra down a little over her ribs.  
  
Trixie's nails stop tapping. When Katya looks over at her her cheeks are flushed again and Katya can't miss the up-and-down look she gives her, taking in her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, old, worn sneakers and leggings she wears for yoga.  
  
"Yoga," Katya agrees, wonders when exactly they got to a point where Trixie could guess so easily exactly what she'd been doing. "Attempted yoga, anyway. Ginger nixed that idea with her last minute audition."  
  
Trixie laughs. "Oh, that's why she needed you to cover? I should have known, I guess. She  really doesn't give up easy, does she?"  
  
"That's not a bad thing," Katya says. Her determination is one of the things she most admires about Ginger, even though it most often translates into stubbornness when they're working together.  
  
"True," Trixie agrees. Her phone is buzzing on the counter again and she glances down at it but doesn't reach for it immediately.  
  
"You should answer your friend," Katya says. Trixie shrugs, looks back up at her.  
  
"She can wait," she says. Katya nods, can't find the right words to reply so crosses her arms in front of her instead, wrapped almost protectively around her middle.  
  
"Trixie!" Pearl's yelling from the other side of the door to the café. Katya jumps a little and Trixie giggles, doesn't look away from her even as Pearl continues to shout for her. "Shea says stop being lazy and come back and do your job." Trixie makes a face, sighs and tucks her phone back into her apron pocket.  
  
"Adore can wait but apparently Pearl cannot," she says. "Do you want me to put aside a coffee for you while you're changing?"  
  
"Thanks," Katya says with a small, grateful smile. Trixie nods, and for a brief moment Katya's sure she's about to say something else, but then she just gives her another smile, a little tighter this time, and pushes away from the counter.

  
***

 

It isn't until she's changed into her outfit for work that Katya realises she has no idea why Trixie came into the store so early. She said she didn't know that Katya was opening, and it's not like she hangs out with Ginger a lot. Katya can't think of any reason why she'd be there as soon as it was unlocked. She can ask her when she goes to grab her coffee, she decides – but when she leaves the break room she finds it already sitting waiting for her on the counter, her name and a silly smiley face on the side in Trixie's neat handwriting.

Katya considers going into the café anyway, asking her what she was doing in the store so early, but figures that she's taken up enough of Trixie’s time already this morning. Instead she waits until Max shows up, a little early for her shift as always, then takes her coffee outside for a solitary smoke break instead.

  
***

 

Most of the day passes without any sign of Ginger showing up at the store. It's fairly calm; Katya's grateful to have Max and Jinkx working, since Max is probably their most diligent employee and Jinkx has been working at the store the longest after Ginger and Katya. Trixie leaves before lunch, something she's been doing more frequently now that she has to spend more time at her other job. She ducks her head into the store just before she leaves to say goodbye, but Katya's with a customer and doesn't get to do more than give her a smile before she has to go.  
  
Things are usually pretty calm from late afternoon until close, so Katya doesn't feel too bad about going out for a cigarette break when Pearl appears and beckons her outside not that long before the end of the day. Thankfully she's laid off her attempts to talk to Katya about Trixie in the last few days, apparently bored of the non-answers and glares Katya gives her whenever she tries to bring it up. Katya's glad that Violet hasn't been working much this week, so busy with class and deadlines that she swapped a bunch of days with Max and hasn't actually overlapped with Katya at all for a while, so she hasn't been around to needle Katya for details about what happened with Trixie the week before at Alaska's show. She knows it'll come eventually – she thinks she saw Violet on the schedule for tomorrow – but every day that passes without Katya having to re-examine the mess that was that night is a day she breathes a little easier.  
  
She can't imagine how much fun Violet's going to have with the news that Trixie's leaving, although Pearl's most likely already told her. Katya isn't quite sure what's going on with them, knows that they fuck sometimes and text a lot, and that things seem somehow completely uncomplicated despite the unclear status of their relationship.  
  
Katya wonders what that must be like.

When she gets back inside she finds Ginger standing at the counter, squinting at something on one of the monitors.  
  
"I didn't think we were going to see you today," Katya says when she reaches her, comes to a stop beside her with her hip bumped against the counter's edge. "How was the audition?"  
  
"Do me a favour: next time I decide to spend a fucking fortune getting into the city for a last minute audition, stop me," Ginger says. Katya winces, considers offering sympathy but holds herself back. She knows Ginger, knows that if she’s at all upset by how the audition went then the last thing she’ll want is for Katya to keep talking about it.  
  
"I thought I'd already done you a favour today," she says instead and Ginger snorts, finally looks away from the screen and at Katya instead.  
  
"True," she says. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you."  
  
"That sounds ominous," Katya says.  
  
"The thing is, I was looking at the schedule," Ginger says, gestures at the screen in front of her, "and I was wondering when you were planning on moving in?"  
  
"What?" Katya says, baffled. Ginger raises an eyebrow.  
  
"I realised how much you've been working recently and I went back through the calendar. You haven't taken any vacation in almost a year, which is crazy seeing as this place is a special kind of hell. So the only reason I could think for you to actually want to be here all the time is that you love this place so much that you're slowly moving yourself in.”  
  
"I'm sure I've had time off more recently than that," Katya says, nudges Ginger aside and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose to get a better look at the screen. "Didn't I go see my parents a few months ago?"  
  
"You cancelled that last minute," Ginger says. Katya frowns, starts scrolling back through the dates.  
  
"What about around my birthday? Oh, no, it was a Saturday," she says.  
  
Ginger's right. She hasn't taken any time off in a long time. She and Alaska had vaguely talked about her taking some time in the summer to go and visit her in California, but they'd never been able to make the dates line up – mainly because Alaska's work schedule was always so all over the place, and then Willam had asked her to go on tour with her and the girls. She hadn't been back to Boston in a while, either, always intending to make time to visit her family and the few old high school friends she vaguely kept in contact with, but she always ended up putting that off, too.  
  
"I guess I could take some time around Christmas?" she says.  
  
"Sure. But what about this week?" Ginger suggests.  
  
"What?" Katya says, taken aback.  
  
"It's not like we're really busy here at the moment, and once Violet's less busy with college it'll be easy enough to cover you. You could take a week from tomorrow."  
  
"I don't know," Katya says uncertainly, "I don't have any plans."  
  
"Then make some, dummy," Ginger says with a roll of her eyes. "Look, I'm gonna get someone bitching down the phone at me if you don't take your time off, they'll say I'm making you work too much." 

"Oh, I see how it is," Katya says, realising Ginger's angle, "you're acting like this is something I should do for me, but actually I'm just doing you another favour so you don't get in trouble."  
  
"Can't it be both?" Ginger says, totally unashamed at getting caught. "You should get some time away from here! It's not healthy to hang around here so much. Look," Ginger says, her voice softening just a little, "your girl's leaving—"  
  
"She's not my girl," Katya says.  
  
"—and I'm not sure I can deal with you moping about it until she's gone," Ginger says, ignores her completely. "So just take the time off and go do something with yourself – for the sake of my sanity. For your own sake! Even if you just use it to finally get some sleep! God fucking knows you need it: you kind of look like shit," she adds. 

“You’re always so sweet to me, you know that?” Katya drawls sarcastically.  
  
The thing is, Ginger's not wrong: Trixie _is_ leaving, and Katya knows she's not going to feel any better about it as the weeks go by. She's already working less, Katya doesn't get to see her as often. She doesn't want to take time off, wants to stick around and spend these last days Trixie will be around with her, get her coffee from her in the mornings and try to catch her at lunch when she's there.  
  
But she thinks of how much worse it's going to feel when Trixie's gone completely, once there are no opportunities left to see her at all.  
  
She thinks of how well Trixie's doing at her new job, how she's excited to move on from the café and do something she's interested in. She's already done something Katya's never been able to do, found something she enjoys and actually make a space for herself within it; she'd never end up stuck in a dead-end retail job for years just because she never quite figured out what to do with herself and didn't want to have to start afresh.  
  
She thinks of the smile on Trixie's face when she read her texts from Adore, how she's apparently already made good friends at her other job. Adore wants to take Trixie for drinks, and Katya can't imagine that she'd be dumb enough to take her to a friend's gig and let her spend the whole evening feeling ignored and frustrated.  
  
"Fine," Katya says. Ginger looks surprised.  
  
"Really? I thought you'd put up more of a fight than that," she says. Katya shrugs.  
  
"I shouldn't really complain at the chance to get away from you for a whole week."  
  
"Bitch! That's no way to talk about your bff," Ginger says, elbows her in the side.  
  
"Oh my god, shut the fuck up," Katya says with a snort.  
  
She isn't sure exactly how she's going to fill an entire week when she doesn't have anything planned, but it's got to be better than hanging around the store and feeling Trixie drift further and further away from her. Maybe a week away can give her the space she needs, make it a little easier to come back and watch Trixie go.

  
***

 

It takes Katya all of three days to remember why she never takes vacation time. Her first morning off she was stupidly optimistic about using her time off to relax, didn’t set an alarm in the hope that maybe she’d be able to sleep in for a while – and then she woke up before the sun rose just as she usually does. 

Really, she thinks, that pretty much set the tone for her week off. 

She’s been debating going to Boston for a few days since it’s not really all that far on the train and she hasn’t visited in a while. But she keeps putting it off, tells herself she can always go at the end of the week if she wants to; there must be things around here she needs to do before going all the way home. 

So she’s gone to some yoga classes, made the most of her free time in the day by putting her headphones in and walking aimlessly around town while most people are at work and it’s quiet. She briefly considered going into the city on her first day off, but it’s always so busy and loud and she doesn’t really have any reason to, so that got pushed aside pretty quickly. 

There was a time when a week’s vacation would have meant a week on non-stop plans, back when Katya was younger and freer and didn’t feel so weighed down by the world. She would have hopped on a train without a second thought, spent the day finding some part of the city she’d never been to to explore, totally content with her own company – and if she wasn’t, she’d find some easily enough. She’d have spent evenings in the bars in town, the ones she used to be so familiar with, comfortable enough in to show up alone and easily insert herself into some group or another. She’d probably find a girl to take home, have no problem walking away the next morning without a single tug of attachment. 

Katya feels too old for all of that now, too tired – more tired than she knows she has a right to feel when she isn’t even thirty yet. 

She misses the routine of work. Ginger always talks about how much she hates the store but Katya doesn’t mind it, likes that most of the time she can predict when it’s going to be busy and when they’ll have their down time, likes that she knows how to do her job and do it pretty well without having to work too hard at it. 

She misses the other girls, Jinkx’s quirky sense of humour and anecdotes from her night gig singing at a tiny bar near her apartment, Max’s helpfulness and entertaining prudishness when they try to get her talking about her personal life, Ginger’s dry sense of humour; she even misses Violet bugging her. 

She misses Trixie. She misses Trixie a lot.

But she tries not to let herself think about Trixie too often, determined to use this break away from the store to get her off her mind. The way she’s been pining for her has always been ridiculous, but it’s even moreso now that there’s hardly any time left before she leaves. 

Katya’s going to have to get used to missing her. 

The only time she really lets herself think about her is during the evenings she spends out on the balcony, curled up around her notebook as she tries to will herself to write. She never got the notes back before she left the store and she’s been beating herself up for not thinking about them when Ginger persuaded her to take time off. She wonders if they’re ever going to reappear and she’s not sure what’s worse: the thought that they won’t ever come back, or that they might be waiting for her at the store and whoever left them thinks that she’s forgotten about them. 

So she tries to write without them, partly just to prove to herself that she can. 

She can’t. 

Even when she finds the copies of the notes she wrote out for herself, thinks hard about the words – _Sometimes there’s a danger of choking on the parts, no one gave a warning to the breaking of your heart_ – tries to apply them to the way she feels about Trixie when it’s late and dark and quiet and she lets her guard drop for just a moment or two, just for herself...but still there’s nothing. There’s something about having the notes in front of her, something about the new words and phrases written out next to Katya’s messy scrawl; it’s something she can’t quite put a name to. All that she knows is that it isn’t something she can re-create by herself. 

She doesn’t let herself think too hard about the sort of pseudo-connection she’s formed with whoever’s on the other end of these scraps of paper, doesn’t want to go down the wormhole of wondering who it is who’s helping her find her way back to writing. She’s scared that it can only work when it’s intangible, that whatever this tenuous link is between them will break, disintegrate, fall between her fingers like dust if it starts to become too real. So she tries not to overthink it, focuses only on the words in front of them when she has them and not on the person behind them and how exactly their words can speak so directly to her soul. 

It’s been three days now since Ginger talked her into taking vacation – bullied her into it, really, she thinks to herself – and she’s spent three consecutive nights determined to get words down. Tonight she’s given up earlier than the previous two, only staring at the blank pages in front of her for the duration of two cigarettes before deciding that she doesn’t want to waste even more time. She tosses her notebook onto the couch and grabs her laptop from where it’s gathering dust on the low coffee table in front of it. It’s a struggle to stretch its charging cable out onto the balcony but Alaska had a point when she grumbled about how uncomfortable Katya’s couch is. So instead of sitting on the hard couch she takes a blanket outside and settles down with her laptop resting on her knees, waits for the whirring fan – always overheating even in the cold fall air – to calm down so she can start her search. 

 

_Good jobs for people who like books_

 

_Careers for writers?_

 

_Career prospects for women’s studies graduate?_

 

_Writing jobs after working in bookstore_

 

As much as she’s loath to admit it, some of Alaska’s serious words from that awful night have stuck with her. She’s been stuck in one spot for so long that it feels like something’s got to give at some point; maybe if Katya can bring herself to actually make a change to some aspect of her life, she can have some kind of control over it. She doesn’t want to move – she’s settled here and she can afford the rent; she’s not sure she’d be able to find another apartment she’d be able to afford alone, and maybe she’s not quite old just yet but she’s sure as hell too old to find a roommate, too used to her own company after this long spent living by herself. 

She likes her job. She likes that she knows the people and the logistics of the day and has a routine there, but she’s also not an idiot. She doesn’t want to spend the rest of her life working in the store. She used to have grand dreams about all of the different careers she could chase once she was done with college: she could be a hard-hitting journalist, a social activist, train to be a therapist or even a professor if she could stick through a few more years of school. Once upon a time it had felt like the possibilities were endless, and still working in the retail gig she’d picked up part time to get through school more than five years after graduating would never have been something she would have thought she’d be doing. 

So maybe a new job is the way forward. But all that the few suggestions her searches come up with manage to do is remind of all of the reasons why she's kept on putting off finding a new job: researching companies, getting her depressingly short resume up to date by extending the years on her description of her time at the bookstore, actually having to go for interviews – she doesn't want to do any of those things.  
  
Maybe something else that Alaska suggested would be easier to do; Katya's sure she threw a whole list of suggestions at her of ways she can give herself the illusion that isn't entirely letting her life slip past her. She glances back inside and catches sight of the couch, the peeling wallpaper in the corners of the room. If she isn't going to move, maybe she can make some changes to the apartment, make it a little less depressing.  
  
Somewhere underneath her blankets Katya can feel her phone buzzing, and when she finally finds it she manages to answer Alaska's call before it cuts off.  
  
"I thought you were ignoring my call for a second there," Alaska says. She sounds like she's in a good mood.  
  
"I probably should have after the state you left this place in when you were here," Katya says.  
  
"Listen," Alaska starts, Katya rolls her eyes but can't help but smile as she wonders what excuse is coming, "by the time I woke up I had fifteen minutes to get out of there. I had to make a few sacrifices to get ready in time."  
  
"And by 'making a few sacrifices' I take it you mean ruining my apartment?" Katya says.  
  
"Don't be so dramatic," Alaska says, "it wasn't that bad."  
  
"It was pretty bad," Katya says.  
  
"You love me anyway, though."  
  
"Debatable," Katya replies, laughs at the whine that gets

from Alaska.  
  
"Where are you? I would've thought you'd be in the middle of a show at this time," Katya says. She closes her laptop, glad for the excuse to shut down the job search for the night, untangles her legs from her blanket and goes back inside to trade the laptop for the cigarettes she left on the counter.  
  
"Nah, we didn't have one today. I'm on the bus, we're somewhere on our way to Jersey."  
  
"I'm so sorry," Katya says solemnly, resettles outside and tugs her blanket up under her arms before lighting a cigarette.  
  
"Bitch, please. Just because you've lived in New York for a few years doesn't mean you have to turn into some kind of Jersey-hating stereotype," Alaska says.  
  
"I've lived here almost ten years, that's not a few," Katya argues, and Alaska makes a dismissive noise.  
  
"Whatever. We've got a few shows there this week and then we're going back into the city for a couple of days to wrap things up." 

"You must be looking forward to getting back to LA when it's all over," Katya says.  
  
"I'm stopping by Pittsburg first for a little while, since we're so near. I haven't been back in so long now. Besides, it'll give me a little time to see how things shake out with Willam and the girls once they're not spending time together twenty-four seven."  
  
"You really think they might stop working together?"  
  
"Girl, you should see them. Things are so frosty here that I'm surprised this bus hasn't frozen over yet," Alaska says.  
  
"Sounds fun," Katya says, takes a deep drag of her cigarette and leans back in her chair, her phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder as she reaches for her ashtray.  
  
"Oh, you know it girl. Why do you think I've come over here to call you?"  
  
"Oh, thanks," Katya says with a laugh, "glad to hear that talking to me is nothing more than a chance to escape the tension."  
  
"Hey! I said I would call you soon and I have, we don't need to get into the specifics of how and why," Alaska drawls. "Anyway, enough talk about me. How are you doing? How is your favourite place on earth, the love of your life, that dusty old store you can't get enough of?"  
  
"Fuck you," Katya says calmly, "for your information I wouldn't actually know at the moment. I'm on vacation for the rest of the week." 

"Well, look at you!" Alaska says, actually sounds a little proud in a way that makes Katya feel a little pathetic. "I mean, I'm assuming that this was forced upon you, you'd never voluntarily take time away from that place, but it's still good."  
  
"You just said we didn't need to get into specifics," Katya says.  
  
"Wait," Alaska says, sounds like something's clicked into place, "tell me you asked out that girl before you took your time off."  
  
"Which girl?" Katya says, tries her back to sound nonchalant in an attempt to buy some time.  
  
"Don't you fucking 'which girl' me, bitch. The girl you spent an entire evening pining over right in front of me! Trixie!"  
  
"Oh," Katya says, tightens her grip on her phone slightly. "No. I did think about it – I did!" she says when she hears Alaska let out a disbelieving 'pah!' on the other end, "But she quit."  
  
"What?"  
  
"She quit! The next morning, before I even got to work."  
  
"So she's gone?" Alaska says, surprised.  
  
"Not yet, but soon. She's leaving at the end of the month."  
  
"So let me get this straight – well, no, let me get this _gay_ —"  
  
"Oh my god, I hate you so much," Katya groans.  
  
"—you were going to ask her out that morning, but then you found out that she's leaving the bookstore—"  
  
"She doesn't work in the bookstore, she works in the café—"  
  
"—and so you chickened out?"  
  
"I didn't chicken out," Katya says, stubs out her cigarette and takes out a new one, "it just seemed like a bad idea. I mean, she's leaving. That felt like a sign that it's not meant to be."  
  
"Sign my ass," Alaska snorts. "You were just looking for any excuse to avoid having to dyke up and actually ask the girl out!"  
  
"She's leaving!" Katya protests.  
  
"Which makes it even more perfect!"  
  
"How on earth does it make it perfect?" Katya asks, baffled.  
  
"How does it not? This way you can ask her out and if she says no—"  
  
"Oh, I'm so glad you have so much faith in me. I thought you said it seemed like she was interested?" Katya interrupts, but Alaska just carries on without even acknowledging her words.  
  
"If she says no, what are the repercussions? She'll be gone, you won't have to deal with any awkwardness. And at least you'll know you tried," she reasons.  
  
Katya's quiet for a moment. There's some logic to what Alaska's saying, sure, but she can't shake the feeling in her gut that Trixie's quitting that same morning that she'd finally resolved to do something was some kind of sign from the universe that she shouldn't ask her out.  
  
"I don't know," she says finally, her voice quiet even to her own ears in the quiet night air.  
  
"Katya," Alaska says, and Katya bites her lip.  
  
"I don't know, okay?"  
  
"Fine," Alaska sighs. There's a beat of silence and Katya wonders if Alaska's debating whether to keep pressing her about Trixie or if she's going to give up. Thankfully, when she speaks again she says, "Well, what have you been doing with this vacation time, then? Tell me everything."  
  
"I was actually just thinking about all of those things you told me I need to do when you were here," Katya tells her, grateful for the change in subject even if she’s not quite stupid enough to think that Alaska’s done grilling her.  
  
"You were thinking about me? Ooh, talk dirty to me," Alaska says playfully, startles a laugh out of her.  
  
"Shut up! I was wondering if I should attempt to redecorate this place a little bit while I have the time."  
  
"You definitely should. I think spending the night in that place gave me depression," Alaska says, all jokingly serious.  
  
"You mean when I let you stay in my home? For free? At short notice? Is that what you’re referring to?” Katya asks. 

“Bitch, you cannot call that place a home.” 

Fuck you, it's not that bad! I think if I painted the walls in the lounge and tried to find a better couch it would make a lot of difference."  
  
"You should look for a new job while you're at it, since you're apparently embracing change now," Alaska suggests. Katya squirms in her chair a little, sets her cigarette between her lips for a moment.  
  
"Baby steps," she says.  
  
"The teeniest, tiniest baby steps," Alaska says, "you're never going to cover that list we came up with if you move at this pace."  
  
"It's not our list, it's your list," Katya corrects.  
  
"Sure, maybe. Doesn't mean it isn't a good list, though," Alaska replies. Katya isn't sure how to reply, but then Alaska says, "Hold on a second," and she can hear someone talking to her in the background. It takes a moment, but Katya catches enough of the tone of their voice, cadence of their words to realise who it is.  
  
"Hey Willam," she says, raises her voice enough so that she'll hear her through Alaska’s phone. 

"Hey bitch!" Willam yells back and Katya can hear Alaska laugh in between them. "How are you? Alaska says you have a girlfriend."  
  
"I didn't say that!" Alaska says quickly while Katya groans. "I said she was pining after a girl she's refusing to ask out and being totally ridiculous about it."  
  
"Oh, because that's so much better," Katya drawls.  
  
"Whatever," Willam says dismissively, "do you want to come back a girl group with me and Alaska? I need some new blood." She sounds louder, so Katya thinks she must have been put on speaker by this point.  
  
"Alaska's been telling me," Katya says.  
  
"She's not allowed in the girl group," Alaska says, "I've heard her sing in the shower and it's terrifying."  
  
"Rude," Katya says.  
  
"It's fine, I want that Australian bitch to do it anyway," Willam says. "Are you coming to our show in New York? It's not that far for you, right?"  
  
"And she's on vacation," Alaska points out. Katya winces at the thought of going all the way into the city for another gig. What would she do, anyway, go by herself? It feels a little sad. She wouldn’t make the mistake again of asking Trixie to go with her, can’t even imagine what kind of reaction she’d get if she tried to suggest it. Violet would jump at the chance, she knows, but there’s a big difference between spending a few hours at a gig near home with her and committing to an entire evening of travelling in Violet’s company.  
  
"I’ll be back at work by then," she says, "anyway, I think one of your shows was enough for me."  
  
"Fine," Willam says, doesn't sound offended by Katya's answer. "Alaska, we're stopping in two minutes. Bye, Katya!"  
  
"Charming as always," Katya says once the sound of the bus on Alaska's end is a little quieter and she can tell she's off speaker.  
  
"Oh, of course," Alaska agrees, sounds like she's smiling from the tone of her voice. "We're stopping at a gas station so I should go."  
  
"Sure," Katya agrees.  
  
"Before I hang up, though—"  
  
"Please don't," Katya says, can guess what's coming before Alaska even says it.  
  
"—please talk to that girl," Alaska says, ignores Katya's protests just like she always does but she sounds a little softer now, a little more serious."  
  
"I said I'll think about it," Katya says.  
  
"I know. I just don't want you to regret not doing anything once she's gone."  
  
"I guess," Katya mumbles.  
  
"And if she says no—"  
  
"There you go again, do you really think she'd say no?"  
  
"Could you please just shut up for one second?" Alaska asks, sounds exasperated but still fond through it. "In the very unlikely circumstances that she says no, I'll get on a fucking plane and bring you ice cream and let you cry at me about it, okay?"  
  
Katya hums, doesn't want to say anything that Alaska might take as some sort of agreement. Alaska makes a noise that's halfway between a grumble and an exasperated sigh, but doesn't try to call her out on her lack of real answer. She always knows just when to stop pushing her; it's one of the reasons Katya loves her.    
  
"Alright girl, I've got to go. I'll talk to you soon," Alaska says.  
  
"Sure," Katya agrees. When it comes to Alaska 'soon' could mean an hour or a week, but Katya doesn't mind. She knows that it's just how Alaska works, always so busy and trying to focus on ten things that sometimes it slips her mind to keep in touch.  
  
"I love you, bitch," Alaska says.  
  
"I love you too," Katya says, smiles as the call cuts off.  
  
She can feel the smile fade as she brings her phone down to her lap again. She's finished her cigarette and can't decide whether to have another or not, taps at the screen of her phone as she deliberates. It's late but not that late given that she has nothing to get up for in the morning; maybe if she stays up later it could help her sleep longer in the morning.  
  
She glances inside and decides against another cigarette when she spots her laptop. She's not sure if she wants to take Alaska's advice about Trixie – whether she can bring herself to take her advice about her, at any rate – but she knows that Alaska's right about making some changes. So she gathers up her things and goes back inside, folds up her chair and slides the door to the balcony shut behind her. She takes her laptop into her bedroom to avoid the uncomfortable couch, hopes its battery will last a little while before it dies without her charger.  
  
Katya's not sure what grand changes she can make to her life right now, what changes she really wants to make. But buying a cheap new couch or changing the colour of the walls seems like an easy place to start. Alaska's right, it's a stretch to call this place a home, really. She doesn't want it to feel that way anymore, wants to make it feel like hers after all of these years spent living here. She wants to make it somewhere she's happy to let people. She wants to live somewhere she could bring a girl to – a _hypothetical_ girl, a future girl, no girl in particular, she tells herself firmly – and feel proud to show her. That feels like a good place to start, if she wants to make her life a little brighter.

  
***

 

“What the fuck are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be back until the beginning of the week.” Violet’s got her pointer finger aimed at Katya as she walks towards her across the store, waving it threateningly with wide eyes. 

“It’s good to see you, too,” Katya says dryly, putting her hands up in defense. “Can you relax? I’m just here to see Ginger, I’m not hanging around, I promise. Do you know where she is?” 

“I think she’s on a smoke break with Pearl,” Violet says, eyes narrowing, “what’s going on? I thought she banished you.” 

“Wow, you really are a dramatic bitch,” Katya says with a roll of her eyes, pushes herself away from the counter with her palms on its edge. “I just need to ask her a favour and then I’ll go away again. Okay?” 

“You better!” Violet calls after her as she walks through to the back of the store. “And tell her to get her ass back in here, I want to take a break!” 

“Good luck with that,” Katya murmurs to herself, knows she won’t repeat that to Ginger because she can’t think of anything that would make her more likely to extend her smoke break even longer. 

Katya pauses on her way to the break room. She glances around, makes sure that Violet isn’t paying attention to her, then ducks between the shelves near the back of the floor. 

She has no idea if they’ll be there – if whoever’s been leaving the notes got tired of waiting for her to find them and took them back or if they ever even left them out for her – but she has to look. It’s been days and days, longer than she’s ever gone without being able to grab them, and she’s trying not to get her hopes up. 

Then she spots a slightly crumpled corner of a sheet of paper sticking out from between two books and feels a smile she can’t hold back spread across her face. She grabs it, finds a few sheets of paper folded over and gets a glimpse of familiar handwriting, and crouches down to open her backpack and tuck them inside, into the small inside pocket she uses for her cigarettes. The smile’s still on her face as she swings her bag back onto her shoulders and goes over to the door at the back wall.   

It drops when she gets close to the door to the back alley. She can hear Ginger and Pearl talking even before she gets it open, and she finds herself hovering inside to try to catch the rest of their conversation. 

“...Maybe if we could find some way to get them both into the break room and then lock it from the outside? They’d have to figure things out if we did that and refused to let them out,” Pearl says. 

“Even if we could get them to fall for it, Katya would kill me as soon as we let them out. Like, actually kill me dead,” Ginger says. Katya rubs her hands over her face wearily, nods in agreement. 

“It would be worth it, though. They’ve been driving me totally insane, and you know it’s only going to get worse the closer we get to Trixie going,” Pearl replies. “I mean, god knows what she’s going to be like when she’s actually gone.” 

Katya decides to cut off their plotting before it can get any further. She pushes the door open and steps outside, feels grimly satisfied at how taken aback by her Ginger and Pearl are. 

“Jesus! Where did you come from?” Ginger asks, clutching a hand over her chest. 

“Did we summon her?” Pearl says to Ginger. Ginger waves her off. 

“Seriously! What the fuck are you doing here?” she asks Katya. 

“It’s so nice that everyone around here is so happy to see me,” she says, crosses her arms. Ginger snorts and inhales on her cigarette, apparently already recovered from her shock.

“I probably should have known you wouldn’t be able to stay away for an entire week,” she says. Katya decides it’s for the best to just ignore that she isn’t exactly wrong. 

“Remember how you said you owe me?” she says. Ginger narrows her eyes. 

“Yes,” she says, sounds suspicious. “Is saying that going to come back to bite me in the ass? What do you want?” 

“I want to borrow your car,” Katya says. Ginger still looks sceptical. 

“And?” she says. Katya shrugs. “That’s it? You just want to borrow my car?” 

“I’m going to try to redecorate my place a little bit while I’ve got the time. The store’s too far to get to without a car.” 

“You’re redecorating?” Ginger repeats. She and Pearl both look surprised and Katya tries not to let it annoy her. 

“Yes.” 

“Damn. Sure, okay. Do you want to grab them now?”

“Really? Now? I can take it tomorrow if that’s easier,” Katya says, a little taken aback by how easily Ginger was persuaded. She’d been ready to start listing all of the occasions she’d helped Ginger out at the last minute, and now she feels a little disappointed that she doesn’t get to lay it all out. 

“Today’s fine, I can get Jinkx to give me a ride home. Besides, I don’t want you thinking you can show up every day when you’re supposed to be on vacation.” 

“Well...okay,” Katya says, still half expecting some kind of conditions to be thrown at her at the last second. “I only need it for a few hours.” 

“It’s fine,” Ginger says with a wave of her hand, a smirk on her face now. “That bike doesn’t seem so handy now, does it?” 

“Oh my god, what is everyone’s problem with the fucking bike?” Katya says, exasperated. “The ice caps are melting, global warming is real!” 

Ginger barks out a laugh. “Just shut up and take the car,” she says. “The keys are in my locker. You know the combination, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay. Now get out of here! It barely counts as vacation if you insist on hanging around here all afternoon.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Katya grumbles. 

As she goes back inside, pulls the door shut behind her, she hears Pearl say, “Do you think she heard us talking about her before?” 

“Yes!” she calls over her shoulder. 

“God fucking damn it, Pearl,” Ginger groans, and Katya lets the door close with a bang. 

She turns around and almost walks right into Trixie. 

“Fuck! Sorry,” she says, instinctively grabs at Trixie’s elbow to make sure she didn’t actually collide with her. Trixie looks startles for a moment and then she smiles at Katya, glances down at her arm. Katya realises what she’s doing and quickly lets go, brings her hand back to her side. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Trixie says with a little laughs, takes half a step back from her in the narrow corridor. Katya nods, pushes her glasses up her nose. “How are you? Violet said you’d come in and I wanted to say hi before you disappeared again,” Trixie says. 

“Oh!” Katya says, surprised that Trixie would go out of her way to find her. “I’m good. I just came in to talk to Ginger about something.” 

“Right,” Trixie says, nods along with her words. She takes another step back and then laughs again, just a little huff, before turning around and walking through to the break room. “Are you having a nice vacation?” 

“It’s fine,” Katya says a little evasively, goes over to Ginger’s locker and pulls the door open once she’s put in the combination. 

“Did you come back just to steal from Ginger’s locker? What does she even have in there?” Trixie asks. Katya can’t see her past the door of the locker but she can tell she’s smiling from her voice.

“These,” Katya says, holds up the keys and lets them dangle from her fingers while she closes the door again. 

“You’re stealing her car?” Trixie asks. This time Katya gets to see the grin on her face. "That's a pretty bold move." 

“Oh, sure,” she agrees solemnly. Trixie laughs at her and she smiles. “No, I’m just borrowing it for the afternoon.” 

“Oh, because the bike—” 

“I swear if you make a joke about how useless my bike is I’m never going to speak to you again,” Katya warns her. Trixie looks surprised and then laughs again, louder and more boisterous than before. 

“Actually I was trying to make my way to another dyke on a bike joke but I’m not quite sure how I was going to get there,” she says, a glint in her eye, “so it’s probably for the best that you cut me off.” 

Katya squints at her for a long second, while Trixie watches her expectantly. “Did you just manage to fit three very bad driving jokes into one sentence?” she asks. Trixie shrugs, acts casual, but Katya can tell she's fighting back a smile. 

“What can I say? It’s a talent,” she says, affects a sigh and tosses her hair back before cracking into a grin again, apparently unable to hold back how proud she is of herself for longer than a second or two. 

Katya’s missed her so much. 

“I guess that’s one one way to describe it,” Katya says. Trixie gasps dramatically. 

“How dare you!”

Katya cackles at her and Trixie laughs too, leans against the lockers only a few along from Katya. 

“How have things been around here since I’ve been gone? I wasn’t sure if you’d be in today,” Katya says. “You don’t have long left now, right?” 

“They’ve been fine,” Trixie says with a nod. “Just a couple of weeks, I think. I told Shea I’d keep doing a few shifts a week for her if she needed me to, but Sasha knows some girl from college who’s looking for a part time job so she’s coming in next week for a trial shift. If it all works out okay with her then I’ll finish up at the end of the month like we said.” 

“And that’s good, right?” Katya says. Trixie shrugs. 

“I guess so. It’s kind of exhausting keeping up with two gigs now that I’m working there so much more, so it’s not going to be a bad thing to drop the hours I do here even if my bank account probably won’t thank me,” she says, quirks the corners of her lips up into a lopsided smile when Katya laughs a little. 

“It’ll be weird when you’re gone,” she admits before she can stop herself. Trixie bites her lip, smile softening. 

“Yeah?” she says, her voice a little quieter. Katya nods. 

For the briefest moment she thinks of her conversation with Alaska from the night before, how serious she’d been in her efforts to try to persuade Katya to ask Trixie out. She can almost feel the words building up in her chest, threatening to bubble up in her throat and escape past her lips in a way that makes her entire body feel uncomfortably tight. 

Katya swallows hard, feels her hands curl into tight fists at her side, cold metal of Ginger’s keys digging into her palm. It helps bring her back to reality and she realises that Trixie’s watching her with something like concern on her face. 

“Katya?” she says. 

“I should go,” Katya says quickly before she can say anything else. 

“Oh,” Trixie says. She looks a little surprised, almost hurt, but then she seems to push it back and nods. “Sure. You’re back next week, right?” 

“Right,” Katya agrees. 

“Okay. Enjoy the rest of your vacation, then,” she says. 

Katya just nods in response, doesn’t trust herself to speak again without saying something she won’t be able to take back; Trixie gives her a little smile but she can’t quite manage to return it. She walks around her, out of the break room, crosses the store without stopping to talk to anyone else and leaves without a glance back.

  
***

 

Katya hates traffic. 

She likes having a bike for lots of reasons: it’s cheap, it’s good for the environment, it gives her a chance to get a little exercise every day to stop her vibrating out of her skin with nervous energy by midday. But the reason she loves her bike that she doesn’t like to admit to people, perhaps one of the most important reasons, is that on her bike she never has to sit in traffic. 

“Oh, come on! Just go!” she groans as she inches forward for the first time in five minutes. She hates Alaska for encouraging her to re-decorate, she hates Ginger doubly for both making her take time off and for letting her borrow her car, she hates herself for listening to them and getting behind the wheel. One of the things she had promised herself when she first moved here from Boston was that she would never drive unless she had to; it’s one of the things she likes most about where she lives, that it’s easy enough to get around without a car. 

There’s something about the specific way that sitting in traffic wastes her time that drives Katya insane. There has to be some kind of irony there, given how many people have been lecturing her recently on how little she’s doing with her life, but it isn’t something she wants to think about too deeply just now. She glances back over her shoulder; Ginger’s car is big enough that she could fit her bike into the trunk when she folded the back seats down, and she wonders for a fleeting moment if she could feasibly abandon the car on the side of the road and cycle home, throw herself on Ginger’s mercy later. 

She inches forward again and resists the urge to let her head drop down against the steering wheel. 

“There’s a reason gays don’t drive,” she murmurs to herself. 

She looks out of the window, drums her fingers against the edge of the wheel. _This_ is what she hates about being forced to sit and wait for the traffic to move, the fact that she’s unable to keep herself distracted from her own thoughts, can’t help the way her mind wanders to whatever she’s trying hardest to avoid thinking about. 

Namely, Trixie. 

Trixie, Trixie, _Trixie_. 

She knows she’s being pathetic about it, wishes harder than anyone she could snap out of it and move on. But she can’t shake the thought that each day she’s away from the store is another day she’s away from Trixie; each day that passes takes her one day closer to Trixie leaving for good. 

How likely is it, really, that she’ll ever see her again? Trixie won’t have any reason to come into the store when she’s gone: it’s not all that close to her apartment and her new job is on the other side of town, so it’s not like she’ll be passing by often. She’s friendly with Shea, but how much does Katya ever see Shea outside of work? 

Katya can hear Alaska’s voice in the back of her head, sincere and insistent in her promise that there can be no real repercussions for Katya if she did work up the nerve to ask Trixie out and got rejected. And Katya knows that she’s right, except for one thing – she’d be crushed, she knows she would be, so totally devastated by it that she’s not sure how she’d be able to get past it, even if Alaska actually did make good on her promise to fly cross-country and commiserate with her over ice cream. 

Katya isn’t someone who falls for girls easily. Occasionally she’s mistaken the boundaries between wanting to be with a girl and wanting to fuck her, but that’s always been corrected after a night or two. The way she feels about Trixie isn’t something she’s sure she’s ever really experienced before. It seems like there’s no easy ending to those feelings to be found, but somehow the idea of Trixie disappearing from her life without resolution seems less painful than having to face the certainty of rejection. 

 _But what if it doesn’t end in rejection?_ she thinks, grips the steering wheel tightly. _What if she said yes?_  

Somehow, that doesn’t seem much less terrifying.

Katya shakes her head, tries to drown out that little voice that won’t shut up. She pushes her glasses up so that she can pinch the bridge of her nose, exhales slow and steady. 

Three, _Trixie’s leaving._  

Two, _Trixie’s leaving and there’s nothing she can do to stop it._  

One, _Trixie—_  

The blasting of a car horn behind her startles Katya out of her thoughts. She jolts a little in her seat, lets her glasses drop back down in front of her eyes and sees a few feet of space between her and the car in front of her, the driver behind her apparently so impatient to move forward that tiny amount that they had to let her know she could move. 

“I hate traffic, I fucking hate traffic,” she growls, considers flipping the guy off in her mirror but manages to contain herself. 

Re-decorating isn’t worth wasting her entire afternoon, she thinks mournfully. She should have just ordered what she needed online like every other millennial. 

At least she’s being productive, she tells herself, even if it doesn’t feel like it right in this moment. She might not be following the main piece of advice that Alaska wanted her to take so badly, but she’s doing _something_ she told her to. 

She looks out of the window again, can’t bear to stare ahead at the endless brake lights. The roads peeling off are clear, and she wishes she was going somewhere else, that she had somewhere else to be. She reads the signs and one catches her eye, has her glancing back at it even after she has to look back at the road to crawl ahead again when the car in front of her moves. 

Katya reads the sign again, bites her lip. She feels crazy – extra crazy – for even considering the possibility, but she’s learned over the years that sometimes, occasionally, it’s not a bad thing to lean into the crazy in these kinds of moments. 

She squeezes her eyes shut for a second, no more, takes another deep breath, and before she can talk herself out of it she flips on her blinker and turns off the road.

  
***

 

At seven thirty on the dot on the day of Katya’s first shift back at work, Trixie appears from the café with a coffee in her hands. Katya’s been there since seven, early as always, but Trixie probably didn’t realise she was already there since she didn’t go into the café. 

“Good morning,” she says with a warm smile, passes the coffee to Katya over the counter. 

“Good morning,” Katya repeats. She sets the cup down in front of her, pushing a little at the edges of the lid to keep her nervous fingers from fidgeting too much. Trixie glances down at her hands, just for a second, then looks back up at her.

“How was the rest of your vacation? Did you do anything fun?” she asks. Katya holds back a wince. 

“I don’t know about fun,” she says, pushes the cup between her palms, “I did do something pretty stupid, though.” 

Trixie’s smile grows until it’s a practically gleeful grin, and she leans forward against the counter, elbows sliding closer to Katya’s hands. 

“Girl,” she says, her voice dropped a little in a conspiratorial way, “what did you do? Tell me! I love hearing about other people doing dumb shit, it makes me feel amazing.” 

Katya can’t help but snort out a laugh. Trixie laughs too, a little snickering noise, eyes still fixed on Katya. 

“Well,” she says, trying to figure out the right words. Trixie’s gaze flickers past her and her eyes widen. 

“Is there a dog in here?” she says excitedly, steps to the side around the counter so she can move past Katya to where Jinkx and Max are both sitting on the floor. “How could you let me talk to you like nothing’s going on when there’s a dog in here!” 

“Uhhh,” Katya says, turns on the spot to watch her, “well…” 

“Isn’t she sweet? She’s Katya’s!” Jinkx says to Trixie. Trixie looks over her shoulder at her, expression incredulous, then kneels down beside Max. 

“You got a dog? _You_ got a dog?” she says, one eyebrow raised. 

“I got a dog,” Katya agrees. She drums her fingertips against the sides of her coffee cup for a moment and then lets go of it and moves closer to them. She watches as the puppy’s attention shifts to Trixie, who looks delighted and reaches out to stroke her ears. 

“Oh my god, she’s so soft,” she breathes, apparently as immediately enchanted by her as everyone else. “I can’t believe you got a dog!” 

“The least spontaneous person in the world did something stupidly impulsive,” Jinkx says, shoots Katya a wicked grin. She rolls her eyes. 

“I’ve been talking about it for years,” she says, does her best not to sound defensive. 

“What’s her name?” Trixie asks, finally looks away from the puppy to grin up at Katya. 

“Okay,” Katya says, and Max lets out a pre-emptive laugh that she tries to stifle as a cough when Katya glances over at her before looking back at Trixie. “So the people at the shelter think she’s mostly wolfhound, right? So her name’s Virginia,” Katya says, proud smile on her face. 

Trixie stares at her, face blank. She doesn’t say anything and Katya feels her smile falter. “You know,” she says, “like Virginia Woolf.” 

“Yes,” Trixie says, expression still unreadable. 

“Virginia. Virginia Woolf. Virginia Woolfhound,” Katya elaborates. 

“Gotcha,” Trixie says. Katya’s feeling a little desperate, but then she sees the first flicker of a smile tugging at the side of Trixie’s mouth. She lets out a surprised little breath of laughter and Trixie laughs too, looks back at Virginia, who’s sniffing curiously at her hands, tail wagging. 

“It’s clever, right?” Katya says eagerly. 

“It’s borderline animal abuse is what it is,” Trixie deadpans. “I can’t believe you named this poor dog something so awful.” 

“Hey! It works, it’s a good name,” Katya says. Trixie snorts.

“Tell me: when you said you’d done something stupid, did you mean spontaneously getting a dog or naming her something so terrible?” 

“Hey! It’s a great name,” Katya says, while Jinkx and Max both laugh and Trixie grins a big cheshire cat grin up at her. 

“How did you end up with a spontaneous dog, anyway? Is that what you wanted Ginger’s car for?” she askss. 

“Not initially. I was supposed to be re-decorating my apartment,” Katya admits. She takes a step closer to them and then, a little tentatively, kneels down beside Trixie. Trixie grins over at her, her thigh nudging against hers as she scratches under Virginia’s chin. 

“You decided to re-decorate your apartment with a dog?” Trixie asks teasingly. 

“I guess so,” Katya says. “I ended up at the shelter and I wasn’t going to actually, you know, bring a dog home. But…” She pauses, covers Virginia’s ears with her hands. 

“What are you doing?” Trixie asks, sounds thoroughly amused. 

“It was a kill shelter,” Katya whispers, and Trixie’s eyes go wide, a stupidly endearing pout pulling her lips down. 

“They wouldn’t!” she says. She’s whispering too, Katya isn’t sure if she even realises she is.   

“What was I supposed to do?” Katya says. She lets go of Virginia’s ears and Trixie starts stroking them again, grin re-appearing on her face when she props her big puppy paws up on Trixie’s knees, pushes her snout in against the crook of her arm. 

“She likes me,” Trixie says, sounds delighted. 

“Like mother like daughter,” Jinkx drawls. Katya glares at her: she’s been spending too much time with Ginger. Thankfully Trixie doesn’t seem to be paying attention to them, although her cheeks are a little pinker than they were a moment ago. 

“I can’t believe you gave such a sweet girl a monstrous name like that,” Trixie says, scrunches up her nose when Virginia tries to lean up and lick her cheek. “Ahh!” she screeches, then quickly makes a soothing noise that goes straight to Katya’s heart when Virginia’s ears flatten, clearly scared by the noise. “See? She agrees with me, she knows it’s a stupid name.” 

“It’s a great name!” Katya says indignantly. 

“It’s cruel. We should call a cute girl like you...Ginny,” Trixie says, talking straight at Virginia now, and she’s affecting a baby voice that has her tail wagging again. 

“No,” Katya says, tries to sound stern even as the sight in front of her fills her chest with warmth, “that’s not her name. Her name is Virginia. Virginia Woolfhound!” 

“Oh, Trixie’s right, Ginny’s a much better name. Virginia Woolfhound is a ridiculous name for a dog,” Jinkx says. 

“Coming from _Jinkx_ ,” Katya says, a little incredulous.  

“Fuck you! I’m a person, not a dog,” Jinkx shoots back, reaches over to stroke Virginia’s side. Her attention doesn’t stray from Trixie; apparently she’s already smitten. 

It’s not like Katya can blame her. 

“Ginny’s a good name for her,” Trixie says, looks briefly at Katya and then at Max, who’s still crouched down beside her. “Don’t you think, Max?” 

Max looks between Trixie and Katya, who raises an eyebrow at her. “I think it’s a nice name,” she says, sounds a little nervous about her response. 

“Traitor!” Katya gasps. Trixie beams at her. 

“See? The people have spoken. Ginny’s a way better name,” she says to Katya. 

“She’s my dog, and her name is Virginia Woolfhound,” Katya insists. 

“Ginny,” Trixie says back, a sweet smile on her face. 

“It’s not going to catch on,” Katya says defiantly. 

“Sure,” Trixie says easily, still smiling at her. “Whatever you say.”

  
***

 

It’s barely even lunch time and Katya’s already given up any hope of anyone in the store calling Virginia Woolfhound by her real name. Ginny’s caught on quickly and, really, Trixie seems so proud of herself for coming up with it that Katya can’t even bring herself to be all that upset about it. She was only working the morning shift but she seemed to spend half of her time in the store with Katya and Virginia; Ginger kept glaring at Katya, making unsubtle comments about how surely Shea needed Trixie back in the café. Trixie had smiled and laughed them all off, which had only annoyed Ginger more. 

“I can’t wait until she’s gone,” she’d grumbled after Trixie had left for the day just before lunch. 

“I don’t know what your problem is with her,” Katya had said. Ginger had stared at her for a long moment, then disappeared off to grab Pearl for a smoke break.

Katya’s pleasantly surprised by how well it’s gone so far, having Virginia in the store with her. The entire experience has been something of a whirlwind – she’d spent the entire journey home from the shelter and a good thirty minutes once she got back to her apartment feeling like she was seconds away from a panic attack, wondering how the hell she’d started the afternoon intending to do nothing more exciting than buy paint for her lounge walls, _maybe_ look for a new couch, and come home with a puppy. But now that she’s past her initial panic things have come together pretty well: she’s past the point of wondering if she can still give her back, anyway. 

Katya’s holding off on taking her lunch break for now; she’s planning on taking Viriginia out for a walk once she can get away, but since she’s currently fast asleep under one of the small tables lining the walls by the shelves it doesn’t seem all that urgent to do it just yet. Katya can’t blame her for being tired, not when almost everyone who’s come into the store has made a fuss of her, not to mention how much attention everyone else who works there has been giving her. Ginger had done her best earlier in the morning to pretend she was annoyed by her presence, but it hadn’t taken long for her to soften – although she’s been almost comically frustrated by how much Virginia loves Trixie, ears pricking up at the first tell-tale click of her boots on the floor every time she came in to see her, tail wagging furiously. Ginger had huffed every time, watched Ginny – _Virginia_ , Katya corrects herself, everyone else might have decided that Ginny’s a better name but she’s proud of her choice, goddamn it – run straight over to Trixie and raised her eyebrows at Katya. 

“You’ve been rubbing off on her already,” she’d said when Trixie had come in to say goodbye at the end of her shift. 

“And you’ve been a bad influence on Jinkx while I was gone,” Katya had replied, thinking of her comment earlier that morning. “Remember when I found you and Pearl plotting to lock us in the break room?” 

“Maybe,” Ginger had said with a sniff. 

“And you said I would kill you if you did that?” Ginger nods, and Katya says, “If you say anything like that in front of Trixie, you won’t need to lock me in anywhere for me to kill you.” 

Somehow, Ginger had managed to hold her tongue in front of Trixie after that. 

Katya’s just wondering if she should wake Ginny – _Virginia_ – for their walk when she hears familiar footsteps coming through the main doors. Trixie’s cheeks are flushed from the cold and her hair’s a little windswept; she’s clutching her purse against her side. 

“Hey,” she says, sounds a little out of breath as she pushes her hair back from her face, looks like she’s trying to smooth it down a little. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Katya says in surprise. Trixie had left almost an hour ago, heading off to spend the afternoon at her other job. 

“Oh, um.” Trixie stops, looks a little bashful. Ginny – _Virginia_ , Katya thinks firmly, _Virginia Woolfhound_ – apparently wide awake now, runs over to Trixie. She’s still a baby, all lanky legs and too-big paws, and she stumbles a little on her way, ends up practically barrelling into Trixie’s legs. “Apparently I can’t stay away from this sweet girl for very long,” Trixie says with a laugh, drops down to the floor to fuss at Virginia. 

“I thought you had to go to work,” Katya says. She wishes she could take a picture of the two of them as Trixie plants kisses on the top of Virginia’s fluffy head, but she doesn’t want to be a creep. 

“I do! I only have a minute, but I was grabbing lunch on my way there and I couldn’t resist getting this for her,” Trixie explains. Her purse has fallen off her shoulder and Virginia’s snuffling at it, trying to fit her head into the gap in its zip. “Hey, get out of there!” Trixie laughs and she’s using that silly baby voice again that she’s been using with Virginia all morning, the one that puts a goofy smile on Katya’s face every time, pulls her away gently and opens her purse. “This is for you!” she tells Virginia, wiggles a teddy bear in front of her face and beams when she grabs it from her.

“Ah,” Katya says, tries not to wince. So far Virginia’s chewed up anything soft she’s managed to get hold of, including any of the toys Katya’s bought for her. The vet she registered her with promised her it’s perfectly normal, she’s still just a puppy, but she feels bad that Trixie’s spent her money on it. 

But Virginia doesn’t seem inclined to wreck the teddy bear Trixie gave her. Instead she’s just holding it between her teeth as she clambers into Trixie’s lap, drops her chin onto her knee and rests her paws on her leg. 

“Such a good girl,” Trixie cooes to her, strokes her head. When she looks up at Katya her smile is big but soft, and Katya can’t help but return it.

“You didn’t need to get that for her. I can give you the money, let me get my wallet,” she offers, but Trixie shakes her head.

“It’s fine! I wanted to get it for her, she’s so cute,” she assures her. “Besides, she adds, still giving Katya that big smile, “I’m sure you’ll find some way to repay me.” 

“Okay,” Katya says, nods along with her. 

“Okay,” Trixie echoes. She looks down at Virginia and sighs. “I really need to go, but how can I move her? She’s too cute,” she says, almost whining. 

“Here, I can take her,” Katya says. She crosses the floor and lifts Virginia into her arms. She can't avoid her hands brushing over Trixie’s legs and she makes sure she averts her eyes from Trixie’s face. 

“Thanks,” Trixie says, getting to her feet and putting her purse back over her shoulder. “Wolfhounds are supposed to get pretty big, right? You’re not going to be able to do that for long.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Katya says. Virginia’s already a little tricky to keep in her arms for too long, especially when she doesn’t want to be there, but right now she’s content to stay put so Katya can keep hold of her. 

“I’m sure you will,” Trixie agrees. “God, I can’t believe you got a dog just before I’m leaving! Why couldn’t you have gotten her when I first started? Although I’m not sure I could have left with her around,” Trixie jokes. 

Katya wishes wildly for a moment that she _had_ gotten Virginia sooner if it would have kept Trixie around, then realises how utterly ridiculous she’s being. 

“You could always come visit her,” she offers, does her best not to sound as ridiculously hopeful as that idea makes her feel. 

“Yeah. Maybe I will,” Trixie says, that soft smile on her face again. She holds Katya’s gaze for a long moment, so long that Katya isn’t sure what to do with herself – so long that she wonders if she’s going to say something – but then her phone buzzes from inside her jacket. Trixie’s expression turns apologetic and she pulls it out of her pocket. 

“Shit! I’d better go,” Trixie says when she looks at the screen. “Are you working tomorrow?” she asks. Katya nods and she smiles again. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she says, steps forward to scratch behind Virginia’s ears. “Bye, Ginny,” she cooes. Katya doesn’t bother to correct her, just watches her go as she waves goodbye from the doorway. 

Once Trixie’s gone, Virginia whines pathetically in Katya’s arms. It seems like she misses Trixie already. Katya understands the feeling.

“Me too, Ginny. Me too,” Katya sighs. Just as she sets her down on her feet, she realises what she’s just said. “Virginia! Oh, goddamn. Fuck you, Trixie Mattel.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katya tries to focus on her breathing, presses the fingertips of her free hand against her temple. She fumbles to bring her cigarette back to her lips, keeps her eyes shut tight. She doesn’t let herself think of anything but inhaling deep and exhaling slow, the warmth of the cigarette between her fingers. Doesn’t let herself think of Trixie’s eyes fixed on her own, her side pressed against Katya’s, teeth dipping into her pretty lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> better late than never, hopefully!
> 
> thank you to everyone who's cheered me on and especially to [johanna](http://mallstars.tumblr.com) \-- this chapter wouldn't exist without you. 
> 
> please leave a comment if you like what you read, your kind words mean the world to me and are a huge part of what keep me writing. i appreciate all of your lovely feedback endlessly. 
> 
> it's a pretty long one, so get comfy!
> 
> come talk to me @[crackerdyke](http://www.crackerdyke.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you want :)

Katya's phone is buzzing on the counter-top in the kitchen. She can hear it even in her bedroom, the noise carrying through the quiet of the apartment as she rummages through her laundry hamper. She knows she tossed in her favourite sweatshirt the other day, determined to wash it, but she didn't get around to doing anything with it and it's too cold to venture out onto the balcony without something warm on, even just for a few minutes. She's already changed out of the jeans she was wearing all day, certain she could make it through the rest of the evening without a cigarette. But she doesn't feel all that tired and she knows she won't sleep if she tries to get into bed, so once she's found her sweatshirt and snagged two stray socks from the top drawer of her dresser she heads back out into the kitchen and picks up her phone and cigarettes.

She always has to make the move out onto the balcony now in a quick dash, pulling the sliding door open as little as possible before slipping through and pushing it closed behind her immediately. The folding chair she used to leave out here is abandoned inside: not only is it too cold during these winter months to linger outside long enough to want to sit down, but there's never been enough space to unfold the chair fully without leaving the door open and she can't really do that anymore.

Once she has a cigarette lit Katya pulls her sleeves down as far over her hands as she can, wedging her left hand under her right armpit in an attempt to keep her fingers from freezing in the cold air. There's a thump against the glass behind her and she turns around, rolls her eyes.

"Don't look at me like that. It's cold, you don't want to come out here," she says. Ginny is sitting on the other side of the door, watching her with big, mournful eyes. She's always determined to hang out on the balcony with Katya whenever she can, despite the cold and the fact that she doesn't exactly have a lot of space to move out here - not to mention her apparent fear of the gaps in the flooring out here that always sends her scrambling into Katya’s lap if she has her chair open out here. It wasn't so bad at the beginning when she was smaller, but somehow Ginny seems totally unaware of how much bigger she's getting every day and doesn't see any harm in splaying out across Katya's legs any chance she gets. Katya doesn't really mind but when she’s only come outside to smoke it always stretches out the time she spends in the cold, sometimes ends up in a dead leg that has Katya cursing up a storm as she hobbles back into the apartment, so at times like this when she just wants to get back inside as quickly as possible it's easier to keep Ginny shut inside.

Unfortunately, Ginny can't quite seem to grasp the understanding that they won't be separated by the glass door for the rest of eternity. The bottom half of the door is covered in smudges where she’s always trying to paw her way through it, and Katya’s sure that by the time she’s fully grown she’ll be big enough to push at the door handle if she can figure it out. Still, given that Ginny’s only just about getting her head around her name by now, Katya decides she can deal with a sudden spike in her intelligence if and when it ever happens.

Katya turns around again, leans her elbows against the railings. Her bare legs are freezing and she tugs the hem of her sweater down as far as she can, grateful for its size. It's a monstrosity of a sweater, really, bright red with an ugly design on its front, but Katya had fallen in love with it in a thrift store back in her freshman year of college. She'd only been a couple of weeks into her first semester, settled in just enough to be swept up in the excitement of living in a brand new town, surrounded by new people and new things. Alaska had wanted to find something new to wear to some party or another she was planning on dragging Katya along to and they'd spent an afternoon trawling through all the thrift stores they could find in town. Alaska had come away with more outfits than she could carry, some of which Katya's sure she still wears to this day, dissected and pieced back together with a lot more rhinestones involved than there were when she found them. Alaska had grinned when she spotted Katya's sweater, and when they got back to their room she'd produced a box from under bed with a sewing machine in, a dozen different fabrics stuffed into the box around it. She'd swiped the sweater from Katya's hands, thrown herself down onto the floor between their beds in a tangle of gangly limbs, and not even a half hour later Katya had been presented with her sweater again. 

 _"It’s you,_ ” Alaska had said, watching as Katya considered the yellow hair she’d stitched onto the face, yellow teeth to match and big red lips.

“ _I’m glad to see I’ve made a good impression on you so far, if this is how you see me,_ ” Katya had replied. It had felt like a test of sorts as Alaska gauged her reaction. She’d grinned when Katya had tugged the sweater on over her flannel, pushing up the long sleeves over her forearms.

“ _Identical!”_ she’d said proudly.

“ _Apparently so,_ ” Katya had agreed.

Some of the red from the fabric of the sweater has bled into the design after ten years of wear and countless washes, and when Katya tugs a little at one side of the yellow hair it threatens to come loose. She uncurls her other arm to send a picture of it to Alaska since she’s feeling nostalgic.

When she’s sent a picture to Alaska, she opens up the messages that came through while she was searching for her sweater. It’s two texts from Pearl, which surprises her because they don’t usually talk that much outside work. The last text she has from Pearl is from a couple of months ago, asking if Katya knows of anyone she can buy weed from because her dealer had ghosted her.

 

_Pearl: are you working on Wednesday?_

_Pearl: maybe it's Thursday idk_

 

Katya considers the texts, tapping her thumb idly against the edge of her screen.  She can only imagine a few reasons why Pearl would want to know when she's working, and she doesn't think she's going to like her answer.

 

_Katya: Yeah, I'm not off until Saturday. Why?_

 

She can hear the thump of Ginny pressing her snout against the door so she turns off her phone screen once she's replied to Pearl, takes the last drag of her cigarette before stubbing it out and turning around to go back inside.

"I'm here, are you happy now?" she asks Ginny, scratching her ear when she props her paws up on her thigh. "Go to bed now, it's late. I have to open tomorrow," Katya tells her. She wonders sometimes if the habit of talking to Ginny is any worse than talking to herself would be, but then again it seems like it would be worse to stay silent just because Ginny doesn’t understand her. Besides, Ginny doesn’t seem to mind listening to Katya’s rambling, and it’s kind of nice to have someone around to complain to when Alaska ignores her calls, to use as a sounding board when she isn’t sure about a line she’s just written out on the back of the notes. To whisper to about the crooked smile she got that day along with her morning coffee, about the way she’d flipped her hair back over her shoulder and Katya had caught sight of all of the different shades of blonde in it as it hit the light, about how she’d squeezed Katya’s wrist lightly before she left the store to go back into the cafe again that afternoon, all safe in the knowledge that the secret can never escape the safe space between the two of them.

Apparently satisfied now that Katya's safely back inside, Ginny wanders off towards the bedroom. Katya spots a streak of red paint on the side of one of her legs and considers whether she should try to clean it off, then decides to leave it until tomorrow; it must have been drying since this morning.

If Ginny is totally unaware of how much bigger she's getting then Katya is hyper-aware of it enough for both of them. She spent a week watching her get stuck in the corners of her small living room and knock things off the the low table before she decided she needed to do something about it. So she's rearranged the room, used an armful of books she decided she could sacrifice to build up the low coffee table in front of the couch just enough to clear Ginny's tail, moved the couch from its spot close to the corner into the middle of the room so there are less spots for her to get stuck in. Moving the couch had shown her where the paint on the wall at its side had started chipping away; now, painted a bright red, Katya thinks it brightens up the room just a little. She unlocks her phone again and takes a picture to send to Alaska, just to prove that she's making good on her promise to change things up around here. Pearl hasn't replied to her.

Katya steps over the half built bookcases in the middle of the floor on her way to the bathroom. She can already tell that even though she had the sense to buy two more it still isn't going to be enough to get all of the books she has stacked haphazardly around the apartment off the floor, but for now she's hoping it'll bring the number of times Ginny knocks a tower of them over every day down by a few. She made it halfway through putting the bookcases together that morning after she finished painting the wall before realising that it probably wasn’t the best idea to keep the two of them cooped up in a small apartment around drying paint for the rest of the day - that, and that perhaps it hadn't been the smartest plan to try to build them both simultaneously, since now she was left with a pile of bookcase parts that seemed extraneous, but really she has no idea which come from which bookcase, and whether one is about to fall apart at any moment if she leaves them as they are. She had tried to follow the instructions that came with them but gave up trying to understand them pretty quickly; now she regretted her lack of patience. It would have been easier if she'd had someone else around to help her figure it out, or at least stop her from abandoning the steps she was supposed to follow at the first opportunity to go rogue.

It would have been a lot easier, Katya thinks, if she’d had a familiar voice to read the instructions to her, even if that inevitably would have only ended in someone making fun of the nonsensical steps laid out for them and laughing at her own jokes until Katya gave up anyway.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been easier, but she still wishes it were real anyway.

So the bookcase had ended up abandoned and she’d taken Ginny out of town, out past the other side of campus to one of her favourite old hiking spots. By the time they made it back home she’d been too tired to finish with the bookcases, decided they could wait until another day when she could summon a little more patience to figure out how they were supposed to work.

Once Katya's brushed her teeth she goes to get into bed, hopeful that sleep will come quickly after the spending most of the day outside. She stops at the end of the bed: Ginny is lying across Katya's side of the bed, closest to the small table beside it where she keeps her phone and lamp. Her own bed in the corner of the room is empty; somewhere along the way they've both stopped pretending she's supposed to sleep in it at night. She gets free reign of the couch in the day time (Katya had decided against replacing it after she got Ginny, preened a little when even Alaska had agreed that it would be stupid to buy a new couch just after a giant dog with as yet untapped destructive capacity) and in the bookstore she can take her pick of spots to nap in, so there's no point pretending she's actually restricted to her own bed at any other time.

So, instead of trying to coerce Ginny into getting off the bed Katya says, "Move over," and prods at her side until she has enough space to fit on the edge of the bed, pulls her blankets free enough that she can cover herself with them. They barely reach the edge of the bed where they're trapped but it hardly matters since she soon has a warm weight against her side when Ginny shifts closer to her and pushes her snout into her arm.

Katya lets her, scratches her ear with one hand as she reaches over to switch the lights off by the side of the bed. She plugs her phone into charge and is just about to take her glasses off when it buzzes on the table.

 

_Pearl: some girl sasha found on campus is coming in for an interview. i think on wednesday?_

 

Katya pinches the bridge of her nose, lets her glasses slip down a little and closes her eyes, leans back against her pillows and lets the edge of her phone rest against her forehead. She stays like that for a long moment before opening her eyes again, pushing her glasses back up and making herself reply to Pearl.

 

_Katya: I thought Shea was going to look through those resumes people sent in?_

_Pearl: i'm sure it'll be easier to use sasha's girl if she's okay_

_Pearl: that's how she found trixie! the people she knows are always better than strangers._

_Katya: but i thought you knew shea before you worked here?_

_Pearl: fuck you._

 

Katya snorts a little to herself, goes to put her phone down again before she sees Pearl is still typing.

 

_Pearl: i guess trixie won't stick around much longer if this girl gets the job. there's no reason for her to stay if shea doesn't need her._

 

Katya doesn't reply. She shuts her phone off and sets it back down, takes her glasses off and tosses them onto the table. She turns away, presses her face into her pillow and closes her eyes as she feels Ginny pushes her snout under her armpit. Katya might find herself wondering every day how many brain cells she actually has in her big head, but she has to admit that she always had good timing.

"Things were good before she was there," she whispers, squeezing her eyes shut tightly, "things will still be good. Things will be okay."

Katya doesn't fall asleep for a long time.

 

***

 

It's still dark when Katya gets to the store in the morning. She's opening today but it's still early enough that she doesn't need to rush; she likes it this way, when she can send Ginny inside and let her find somewhere to curl up and fall asleep before she goes back out for a cigarette. She’s always ready to drop as soon as they get to the store after running alongside Katya’s bike the whole way there; it took them a little figuring out to make it work, and back when Katya had first brought her home she’d wondered if she’d end up caving and finally buying a car instead of battling through their first few uneven attempts to make it to the store together. She’s glad she didn’t have to, doesn’t want to have to fight to find a parking space every morning, even though she still thinks it might not be a bad idea to consider getting a car at some point in the near future. She’s supposed to be going to her parents’ home back in Boston for Christmas and she hasn’t decided what to do with Ginny while she’s there, but if she decides to take her with her she isn’t sure she wants to deal with trying to get her there on the train.

By the time Katya finishes her cigarette she’s grateful to get back inside. She doesn't mind the frigid air, has spent her whole life on the East Coast, but it's always nice to come back into the store as the heating kicks in.

Katya wonders if maybe she can wait to get coffee until one of the others gets in: she's pretty sure Max is working today and she's always early, and she knows she'd be more than happy to grab Katya a coffee for her once she's there. She isn't sure she wants to deal with Pearl this early on a Monday morning after the conversation she abandoned the night before, and if Trixie is there with her - well, Katya would rather not have to talk to her about how happy she must be at the prospect of getting to drop her shifts her if the new girl they have coming here is a good fit to take over for her.

But Katya hasn't seen Trixie for a few days, she didn't work over the weekend and Trixie wasn't there on Friday, and she wants to see her. Doesn't know if it's better to try to keep herself away or if she should make the most of these chances to see her while she's still around. There's no guarantee she'll ever see her again once she leaves for good; she has to keep reminding herself of that.

For now, Katya can put off her decision for a minute or two longer. She stops on her way back into the store to grab the notes from her bag in the break room, keeps them tucked into her palm as she considers where to leave them this morning. She’s kept them for a few days, wonders if whoever is writing them has been waiting for them or if they forget about them when they leave them here. Katya doesn’t let herself think about whoever it is on the other end of this all that often, but sometimes she finds herself wondering if it means as much to them as it does to her, if it’s helped them as much. Maybe they barely even care about what she writes, maybe it’s just idle amusement to see what comes back with their writing – but maybe not. Katya’s been writing long enough to see a little of herself in the unfamiliar handwriting in front of her. She knows she’s picked up on things too, how can she not when she sees the same cleverly written words and phrases so often that she has them memorised.

She doesn’t let herself think about whoever it is writing these notes, but sometimes she does let herself think about how they’re supposed to sound in her head, whose voice should be reading them.

Today she tucks the notes between two volumes of the same book in the travel section. It’s a spot she’s used before, perhaps even between these same two books: it’s a good section to use given its proximity to both the café and the main doors, not to mention that it’s where she first found them months ago. Given that it’s one of Jinkx’s she feels fairly safe in hiding them here without worrying that Jinkx might stumble across them while she’s working – she’d never stash them in any section of Max’s, she’s so diligent that she’d find them within hours of getting to work with how often she’s checking the stock and making sure everything is arranged properly. Jinkx has been working here the longest of everyone after Ginger and Katya and pays about as little attention to her sections as Ginger used to, and travel is the least likely place Katya would expect to see her if she did decide to check in on things, so it’s a safe spot to use.

Once the notes are safely tucked away Katya goes back to what she’s actually supposed to be doing and starts opening up. She still has another half hour or so until anyone else should arrive, maybe fifteen or twenty if she’s right about Max working today, and opening up doesn’t take that long unless she comes across any problems; she’s still debating over whether or not to go into the café when everything is set up.

The familiar click of boots against the floor on the other side of the doors to the café make all of Katya’s dithering pointless. Normally she wouldn’t be able to hear Trixie from so far away but she hasn’t set up the music they play through the store yet, so she hears her before the doors even open, looks up in time to see her appear. Katya hasn’t seen her in three days but now that she’s here, walking towards her, Katya realises she’s missed her as if it’s been three months.

It doesn’t bode well for when Trixie finally leaves the café for good.

“Good morning,” Trixie says when she’s almost reached the counter, glancing around the rest of the store to, Katya assumes, see if anyone else is there yet. “Violet told me you were opening up this morning.”

“I didn’t know Violet paid attention to anything around here,” Katya replies, returns Trixie’s smile when she slides a coffee cup across the counter to her. “Good morning,” she adds, her voice a little softer. She wraps both of her hands around her coffee, warmth spreading through her palms, and raises an eyebrow when she spots the drink in Trixie’s own hand. Trixie follows her gaze and rolls her eyes, sets her cup down in front of her on the counter and leans her elbows against the edge, a mirror image of Katya’s own stance.

“Shut up,” she says pushing her drink between her open hands.

“I didn’t say anything,” Katya says, can feel the amused smile pulling at one side of her lips.

“Oh, sure, this is nothing,” Trixie says, raising each of her eyebrows in turn until she’s pretty much just wiggling them at Katya.

“It is nothing!” Katya insists, her smile a full blown grin by now. Trixie huffs and picks up her coffee; Katya can already see the pink marks her lipstick has left on the lid.

“It’s cold,” Trixie says by way of explanation.

“Your coffee’s cold? In a normal cup? Wouldn’t that be the opposite of what you’re going for?” Katya asks, doing her best to sound innocent.

“It’s too early in the morning for you to be this fucking hateful,” Trixie says, making Katya laugh and push herself back from the counter a little, fingers wrapped around its edge and arms extended. “It’s too cold outside, you know that’s what I meant.”

“I thought you were tougher than that. I expected to see you here in December drinking your iced coffees,” Katya says. She doesn’t think about it until the words are out of her mouth – Trixie won’t be here in December. Her face must fall at the realisation, because Trixie bites her lip, sets her coffee down again. Her lipstick is already a little smudged, blown out around her lips, and Katya doesn't doubt that she has the lipstick tucked away in a pocket or in her bag to re-apply before long.

"Did you have a good weekend?" Trixie asks instead of addressing Katya's slip up. "Are you still decorating?"

"Yeah," Katya replies. She's been keeping Trixie up to date with her plans to do up her apartment; when she told Trixie on Thursday about her plans to spend a couple of days putting together new furniture over the weekend, Trixie had choked on her coffee. Katya had been alarmed, but once Trixie had recovered she’d assured Katya she was fine, followed up with a quip about the inherent handiness that comes so often with lesbians, don’t you find?

That’s not the only thing that comes so often when you’re talking about lesbians, Katya had wanted to reply, but she’d already been ignoring a customer who’d clearly been trying to get her attention for a good few minutes by the point. It had probably been for the best, anyway: as much as she knew that Trixie enjoyed stupid puns a lot more than the average person, that one might have been a step too far – or a few steps, probably.

“How is the furniture coming along?” Trixie asks. There’s the slightest glint to her eye and she leans a little further into the counter.

“Just fine,” Katya replies and Trixie grins, brings her coffee back up to her lips. “How was your weekend? You weren’t working yesterday, right?”

“No,” Trixie says, her eyebrows raised just a little like she’s surprised by Katya’s question, “I had yesterday off. It was my only day off this week, like I said last time I saw you.”

“Oh. Yeah, right,” Katya replies. She knew that, of course she knew it, it’s not like any conversation with Trixie slips out of her mind, but she never thought that Trixie would want her to keep track of her schedule, always thought it was a little…much, to know so much about her. But Trixie seems annoyed that Katya might have forgotten what she told her, her nails dragging across the sides of her cup. One is almost completely chipped off, another a little shorter than the others. Katya knows how busy she’s been, juggling her shifts here with her newly expanded role at her other job; maybe she’s just too tired to want to have to tell Katya things twice.

“Did you do anything nice yesterday?” she asks when it seems obvious that Trixie isn’t about to offer anything up about her weekend. Trixie shrugs, her mouth still pulled down a little at the corners. With the added effect of her smudged pink lipstick Katya thought she could have found her exaggerated sad expression comical, if not for the knowledge that she had been the one to put it on Trixie’s face.

“Sure. I met Adore and a couple of the other girls from work for brunch and we kind of just went from there,” Trixie says. Her eyes flicker up to meet Katya’s again when she mentions Adore; Katya can hear the light thump of her tapping the toe of her boot against the bottom of the counter.

“That sounds nice?” Katya says. She doesn’t mean for it to come out like a question but it does anyway, and Trixie’s lips purse.

“It was. I had fun! I feel like I never have time for fun at the moment – I’m always here or working overtime to make up for being here,” she says with a sigh. Katya’s fingertips find the edge of the lid to her cup, popping it open just a fraction and then pushing it closed tight again. Open, close, repeat, repeat. Trixie’s gaze flickers down to her hands and Katya forces them still.

“I’m sorry,” she offers. Her words sound lame even to her own ears, but she doesn’t know what else to say. Knows she’s probably supposed to say, _I hope you can get out of here soon and make more time for yourself_ , but doesn’t think she could stop herself from saying  _I don’t want you to go, I wish you’d change your mind about leaving_.

Somehow, she thinks that might put Trixie in an even worse mood.

“It’s not the end of the world,” Trixie says, “it’s not like I don’t need the money. Besides, Shea has someone coming in tomorrow to interview.”

“That’s tomorrow?” Katya says in surprise, and Trixie nods. “Pearl told me Wednesday. Or Thursday.”

“And when has Pearl ever been a reliable source of information?” Trixie asks dryly.

“Fair point,” Katya agrees.

“When did she tell you about it? Shea only told me on Saturday, I didn’t think you were working.”

“I wasn’t, Pearl texted me last night,” Katya says.

“Oh. I didn’t know you two talked outside work.” Trixie’s lips are pursed again, both palms wrapped around the cup in front of her.

“We don’t, not really. Apparently she thinks this interview is really important,” Katya says.

“So important that she has no idea what day it’s happening on?” Trixie says, a hint of a smile pulling at her lips again.

“Do you think Pearl ever knows what day it is?” Katya asks. That gets a huff of laughter out of her and a little of the tension in Katya’s chest eases. “Is Pearl even working tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Shea said she had to make sure that the interview happens when Pearl’s here, it’s part of the test.”

“Part of the test?”

“She has to see if this girl can handle Pearl,” Trixie explains.

“Was that part of your interview, too?” Katya asks.

“Sure. I didn’t realise it at the time – I’m not sure Pearl even knows that she’s involved.”

“They’ll be lucky if they can find someone who can manage Pearl half as well as you do,” Katya tells her.

“I won’t miss that part of this job,” Trixie says, but Katya doesn’t buy for a second that she’s anything less than fond of Pearl. “God, I can’t ever let Adore and Pearl meet. I don’t think the universe could take it.”

“Adore’s like Pearl?” Katya asks. She’s morbidly curious about Adore, wants to know about the girl Trixie spends all of her time with at her new job – and on her days off too, apparently. She’s almost given into the temptation to look her up on facebook or instagram or twitter, wherever she could find her, but then she makes herself consider what Alaska would think of her giving all of her attention to someone she’s never even met, probably won’t ever meet in the future, and forces herself to hold off.

“Kinda,” Trixie says, shrugging. Katya nods, takes a sip of her coffee. Trixie’s gaze flickers between her eyes and her lips, then she looks back down at her own cup again.

“But you like Adore,” Katya points out.

“What?”

“You said you weren’t going to miss Pearl. But if you like Adore and Adore and Pearl are similar…” Katya trails off, lets out a laugh when Trixie rolls her eyes and points a finger at her.

“I’m not going to miss Pearl. Anyone who says that is a liar,” she tells her firmly.

“Whatever you say,” Katya says. She’s still smiling, and Trixie watches her for a second before letting out a little laugh. Katya can feel herself relaxing again now that Trixie’s irritation with her seems to have passed.

“Did you leave Ginny at home today?” Trixie asks.

“Do I ever leave _Virginia_ at home?” Katya asks. Just because she’s given in to calling her Ginny at home doesn’t mean she has to let Trixie know she’s won.  “She’s probably asleep in her chair.”

“Her chair?” Trixie repeats, and Katya gestures vaguely towards the poetry section. Trixie looks past her, squinting a little at the little alcove tucked away in the back corner by the door through to the break room. “What’s back there?” Trixie asks, already walking around Katya to get to it. “What the hell? How did I miss this?” she asks.

“You mean you’re not an avid poetry fan?” Katya asks, following her over to the doorframe.

“How did poetry end up over here? Didn’t you want to put something popular in here?” Trixie asks. She’s half distracted: Ginny’s very much awake again now that she’s realised her favourite person is there, and Trixie’s bent over a little beside the chair as Ginny paws at her arms. One of Trixie’s knees is propped up on the chair beside her, her boot stuck out in the air. Today’s pair are white but Katya’s seen her in pink ones before; she thinks maybe there’s a yellow pair, too, but that could have been a trick of the light.

Trixie’s not wrong about the poetry section. The other alcove in the opposite side of the store is put to good use as a small children’s section; Katya rarely has reason to go into it unless she’s re-stocking for Jinkx but the last time she did it was still decorated with orange and black streamers Jinkx had decided to put up for Halloween last year and then promptly forgotten to ever take down, even as every other holiday passed them by. When Halloween had rolled around this year she’d even shown up to work with new decorations to put up and been totally surprised by the fact that there were still the same ones up.

By all rights the other corner of the store should be used for something more popular than poetry, probably general fiction or maybe the section they keep stocked according to the local colleges’ reading lists. But the last time they’d rearranged the store Thorgy had still been their manager and she’d left Katya and Ginger to handle it all, late one evening when they’d closed the store a little early to do it. Thorgy had spent the whole time off on some tangent or another, darting between talking on the phone and chain smoking outside. Somehow Katya had managed to steal the little alcove away for herself, stocked it with their small poetry selection, and no one had ever really questioned her on it. Ginger’s made a few comments over the years about how poetry hardly needs that much space by itself, but Katya’s pretty certain she isn’t actually going to try to change anything about the layout of the store unless she has to.

“It’s my sanctuary,” Katya tells Trixie, who glances back at her from where she’s fussy over Ginny.

“Your sanctuary?”

“Well, mine and Gin— Virginia’s, now. No one ever comes back here, so no one ever bothers you if you in here, either,” Katya explains.

“And you never thought of telling me about it before? Think of all the times I could have hidden away from Pearl back here,” Trixie points out.

“You love her really,” Katya says, and Trixie rolls her eyes again.

“Why is this chair giving me the finger?” she asks, apparently only just noticing the shape of it.

“Isn’t it amazing?”

“It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen,” Trixie says.

“We used to keep it out nearer the door, but I brought it in here a few years ago,” Katya says proudly.

“Of course you _chose_ to put this thing in here,” Trixie says. She sounds fond and Katya’s glad most of her attention is on Ginny, since she can feel the smile her tone puts on her face.

"It's comfier than it looks," she says. Trixie's apparently happy to take her word for it, stepping back from the chair and moving closer to the shelves.

"Did you write all of these?" she asks, crouching down to look at one of the recommendation tags hooked onto a low shelf.

"The ones in here? Yeah," Katya says. There are three or four recommendation tags in this tiny section and Katya likes to think that maybe somebody at some point might have picked up something just because of what Katya wrote about it.

"And the rest of the ones in the store," Trixie says, then, a moment later, adds, "you have nice handwriting." She sounds almost disappointed.

"Thanks," Katya says. She always had to take extra time to write out what she wants to say in neat print, knows her usual scrawl won't be legible enough if she doesn't make an effort to write it all slowly. "I don't think I've written all of the rec tags."

"Oh, sure," Trixie says, scepticism clear in her voice. "Tell me: have you actually read every single book in this store?"

"I'm sure there's a few I still haven't gotten around to yet," Katya says dryly.

"Do you just not let anyone else write these things?" Trixie asks.

"Max writes a lot of them for fiction."

"But the rest are you?"

"Who else do you expect to do them? Jinkx doesn’t have any time to read anything-”

“And would probably fall asleep if she stopped to try,” Trixie cuts in, grinning proudly at her own joke.

Violet doesn't care enough to do anything around her voluntarily, and Ginger-"

"Ginger's never even opened a book before?" Trixie says before she can finish. Katya laughs, leans against the side of the chair.

"Don't let her hear you say that."

"Oh, because _that_ might make her dislike me?" Trixie says, raising an eyebrow. She looks around the little space again, the backs of her knees bumping against the edge of the chair. She's so close to Katya now, her big curls almost brushing against Katya's face. "Do you like poetry? Or do you just like getting to hide away in here?" Trixie asks, her voice a little softer now.

"Both," Katya says. Trixie glances over at her, her gaze searching her face for a moment, and then she looks back at the books, zeroing in on another of the little tags with Katya's neatest writing filling its space.

"Have you ever written any?" Trixie asks. She sounds almost casual, but there's a little edge to her tone that Katya can't quite identify.

"No," Katya says, before she can consider whether she wants to tell the truth or not. It's for the best: what is she supposed to say? I used to but then not for years, not until some stranger left their writing here and now we've been sharing what we write without knowing who we're talking to?

If Trixie doesn't already think she's totally crazy, that would probably be the last straw to prove her insanity.

Trixie doesn't reply, just nods and turns back to Ginny, who's been trying to get her attention by pushing her snout against her palm.

"What happens if this girl Shea's bringing in tomorrow gets the job?" Katya asks. Part of her wants to ignore it, pretend it isn't happening, but she also knows she should probably try to keep herself prepared.

"I said I'd stick around until the end of the month to make sure whoever takes over knows what they're doing, but after that...I guess I'm free," Trixie says.

"You must have your fingers crossed, then," Katya says. Trixie shrugs.

"Kinda. Anyway, who knows," Trixie says, looking over at Katya as a wry smile crosses her face, "I think Sasha met her in one of her classes, so maybe she'll be some stuck up college girl who's never made anyone coffee in her life. The might not be able to replace me just yet."

 _I hope so_ , Katya wants to say, but she bites her tongue.

"We'll find out tomorrow," she says instead.

"Yeah," Trixie says. She takes her phone out of the pocket of her apron just enough to check the screen, then sighs. "I should get back to work. If I leave Pearl alone with the morning rush then someone's inevitably going to die."

"Oh, sure," Katya agrees.

"I'll see you for lunch?" Trixie asks. Katya nods, and Trixie smiles at her.

"Okay," she says, then looks back down at Ginny. "I'll see you later too!" she tells her, scratching behind one ear. Then she peers at the side of her neck. "Hey," she says, aimed at Katya this time, "didn't anyone tell you you're  not supposed to paint your dog?"

"Oh, god, I can't believe I missed so much of it," Katya says, reaching over to see if she can free the paint from her fur with her nails. Apparently Trixie has the same idea and her fingers bump against Katya's. Katya pulls her hand back quickly, and there's a brief second of silence before Trixie lets out a noise that's halfway between a laugh and a sigh.

"I'll leave you to it," she says, giving Katya one last small smile.

When Trixie leaves, Katya sits down on the edge of the seat beside Ginny. "Don't get used to her being here," she whispers to her, kissing the top of Ginny's head when she wriggles her way halfway into Katya's lap. She can still hear Trixie's boots clicking against the thin carpet in the store, and then the sound stops, quicker than Katya would have thought she could reach the door to the cafe. It's only for a moment, and then her footsteps start again, dying off once she hears the door open and then close.

"Her coffee," she says to Ginny, realising she must have stopped to grab her cup from the counter. She lets herself stay sitting down for a few more minutes, unable to help herself from reliving the feeling of Trixie's fingers against hers. "Okay," she sighs when a glance at her watch tells her everyone should be arriving any minute now, "time to go to work." 

 

*** 

 

“Katya.”

Katya looks up from where she’s kneeling down by the shelves, a stack of new books beside her. Ginger is watching her from her spot behind the counter. She’s been there ever since she arrived an hour or two after Katya, and now she’s looking at her with one eyebrow raised.

“What is it?” Katya asks.

“I know it’s apparently your girl’s purpose in life to piss me off as much as possible, but can you please tell her to take her damn trash with her next time she’s in here? Or at least throw it out,” Ginger says. Katya frowns.

“What?” she asks, confused. Ginger gestures to a coffee cup on the edge of the counter. “That’s not hers,” Katya says.

“Oh, right. It must have been someone else who wears an obscene amount of pink lipstick who left it here, then,” Ginger says, turning the cup around and holding it up so that Katya can see the pink smeared around the edge of the lid.

“She took her cup with her,” Katya says, even though the cup is very clearly Trixie’s.

“You know, you really don’t have to make excuses for her,” Ginger says, tossing the cup into the trash. “God, I can’t _wait_ for that girl to finally make good on her promise and actually leave so that you can regain that tiny ounce of common sense I know you used to have before she got here. She turns you into a useless mess.”

“I’m always a mess,” Katya points out. Ginger snorts.

“Bitch, don’t play dumb with me, I know your game,” she says, pointing one finger at Katya and narrowing her eyes a little. Katya raises her hands, trying to protest her innocence. Ginger rolls her eyes. “Whatever. The sooner she leaves, the better.” 

 

***

 

"Are you really going to hide for the whole day?"

Katya looks over at the doorway when Pearl speaks, inhaling deeply on her cigarette before shrugging.

"It's not the whole day. It's barely even lunchtime," she says through her exhale.

"You know what I mean," Pearl says, patting the pocket of her apron and murmuring a 'thank you' when Katya holds out her lighter for her to use.

"I don't know why I need to come in and meet this girl. She might not even end up working here," Katya says, leaning her elbow back against the railings. She didn't stop to grab her jacket on the way out, figuring she'd only be outside for a few minutes, but now that Pearl has her cornered she wishes she’d paused to put it on.

“Shea likes her. She told us to show her how things work while she’s at lunch, see if she can pick any of it up already,” Pearl says.

“Shea asked you to show her the ropes and you decided to come out and have a cigarette instead?” Katya asks, trying to focus on making fun of Pearl instead of the rest of what she was saying.

“I can’t do _everything_ for her,” Pearl says with a shrug. She passes Katya’s lighter back to her and moves to closer to her, pushing herself up to sit on the top of the railings and crossing one leg over the other.

“I don’t think anyone was ever expecting that to happen,” Katya tells her truthfully. Pearl shrugs, takes her phone out of her pocket and starts thumbing through something on her screen. Katya could leave her to it, finish her cigarette and duck back inside while she has the chance, but instead she asks, “What’s she like?”

“Who?” Pearl asks, not looking up from her screen. Katya snorts.

“The new girl, dummy.”

“Oh. Yeah, she seems nice. I just hope she pulls her own weight around here – I don’t want to get stuck picking up everyone’s slack like always,” Pearl says. She doesn’t seem to notice Katya’s lack of reaction until she looks up a minute later and sees Katya watching her, mouth open in surprise. “What?”

“I…” Katya trails off, can’t help but smile in amusement as she shakes her head. “Nothing. Nothing!” Pearl is still watching her with her eyes narrowed slightly, then seems to accept Katya’s response and looks back down at her phone.

When Katya finishes her cigarette, she stubs it out against the railing and drops it into the trash can by the door. She finds herself hesitating in the doorway once she has the door propped on with the side of one boot.

“Do you think she’s going to hire this girl?” she asks Pearl.

“Probably. She seems decent enough, Sasha likes her and she’s worked in a café before. I don’t think Shea wants to waste her time interviewing any more people,” Pearl says.

“Sounds like it’s pretty certain, then,” Katya says. Pearl shrugs.

“Probably,” she agrees. She finishes her own cigarette and tosses it over the other side of the railings into the alley, slides down from her perch and tugs her skirt down at the back under her apron. “Are you going to come and say hi?”

Katya sighs, pushes her glasses up her nose. “I guess,” she says, trying not to sound too reluctant but aware she’s failing.

“It’ll be fine. Don’t you normally like everyone?” Pearl asks, pushing past her to get inside when Katya doesn’t budge from the doorway.

“Do I?” Katya asks. Pearl probably isn’t wrong, she can’t really think of anyone who’s worked here in all of the years she’s been here who she’s really disliked. But this is different. If this girl works here, Trixie won’t anymore.

“She’s nice. I think she said she’s from Boston, too,” Pearl says when Katya finally follows her inside, lets the door swing shut behind her.

“Oh, really?” Katya asks.

“Maybe. I don’t know, she talks a lot, I tuned a lot of it out.”

“I bet Trixie likes that, someone else who talks as much as she does,” Katya says without thinking.

Pearl snorts. “Oh, sure. She _loves_ her,” she drawls.

Katya wonders if she should check in with how things are in the store, but Pearl goes straight through to the door at the back of the café and Katya follows. Ginger’s working today, so she’s sure she’ll send someone to get her if they need her. She left Ginny with Jinkx before she went outside and figures it’s better to leave her there instead of taking her into the café around lunch time when there’s someone new figuring out the place anyway.

“—so then she just asked if I was looking for another job and I said yes, duh, working at that place was the worst but I didn’t really want to keep doing waitressing even though the tips were good when they were good, and she asked if I’d ever worked as a barista before and I did it in high school for a year, just until I had to start doing all my college applications, and it was always a lot better than waitressing so then when she told me her girlfriend was looking for someone to work at the café she manages it seemed like the perfect fit!”

 _God_ , Katya thinks, _Pearl really wasn’t kidding about how much this girl talks_.

Trixie looks around when the door to the café opens, looks relieved to see Pearl – something Katya files away to make fun of her for later – and then smiles when she spots Katya with her.

“Hey!” she says, her eyes following Katya as she slips around to the other side of the counter, glad there’s no line of people waiting to be served so she can hover nearby.

“Hey,” Katya replies, returning her smile. She can see the girl beside her properly now: she’s shorter than Trixie, probably shorter than Katya, too, just by a couple inches, and she has a label stuck to the front of her apron that reads, ‘Juju’. She’s looking between Katya and Trixie, long dark hair whipping against her shoulders.

Trixie looks away from Katya and her expression falls a little when she looks at Juju, and she actually sighs a little before she says, “Katya, this is—”

“I’m Jujubee, but just call me Juju!” Juju says enthusiastically; Katya doesn’t miss the affronted look on Trixie’s face when she gets cut off. “Oh! Are you the one from Boston? Trixie said someone in the store was from Boston too.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s me,” Katya says. Juju’s grin brightens as Trixie’s expression drops even more, and she steps back from the counter to talk to Pearl behind Juju. Juju doesn’t pay them any attention, just beams at Katya.

“Whereabouts?”

“Marlborough,” Katya replies, trying to catch what Trixie’s saying to Pearl. She’s talking too quietly for her to make out any of the words, which is unusual in itself for Trixie.

“Bitch, no way! Did you go to the Charter School or the High School?” Juju asks her.

“Hey, can you either move over or help?” Trixie cuts in, looking pointedly between Juju and a couple of customers waiting near Katya.

“Sorry!” Juju chirps, seems unbothered by the bite in Trixie’s tone that seemed pretty obvious to Katya, and shifts over towards the edge of the counter. Katya shifts over too, putting more space between herself and the people ordering. She looks back at Juju to see her smiling expectantly, clearly still waiting for an answer.

“The High School,” Katya says.

“Oh, right. I was wondering if we’d have crossed paths, but I guess not,” Juju replies.

“And now you go to college here? Pearl told me Sasha found you for the job,” Katya says. She knows she should make an effort with this girl if she’s going to stick around, and she seems nice enough. Trixie glances over at them from where she’s pouring a drink into a takeaway cup, her lips pressed thin together.

“Yep! Sasha TA’s in one of my classes and I was complaining to her how bad my job sucks and she told me about here. Do you go there too?”

“A few years ago,” Katya says. Juju nods.

“Hey, Trixie? Do you go to school here? I’ve never seen you on campus but there’s always so many people,” she says, looking over at Trixie. Trixie turns around towards them just as she tries to force a lid onto the drink she’s just made; it doesn’t quite fit and coffee spills over the sides of the cup onto Trixie’s arm.

“Fuck!” she says, pulling her arm back from the scalding coffee. She shakes it a little, sighing, then looks over at Juju. “No, I don’t go to your fancy school,” she says, dropping the lid onto the counter and trying to roll her sleeve up before going to grab a cloth from beside the sink.

“Ooookay, then,” Juju says, her eyebrows pulled high in surprise at Trixie’s response. Katya can’t exactly blame her; she wonders if Juju did something before she came in to put Trixie on edge, if there’s some reason she doesn’t seem to like her already. She doesn’t say anything, just leans over the counter to try to put the lid onto the coffee for Trixie. It’s cracked down the side, perhaps from the force with which Trixie was trying to fit it into place, so she pushes it aside and leans up on her toes to grab a new one from the furthest away edge of the counter. She’s just pressed it into place when Trixie turns back around. Her eyes flicker between the cup and Katya’s face, and she exhales slowly out of her nose. Katya watches her expression relax a little.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice softer now.

“You’re welcome,” Katya says, while Trixie hands the cup to Juju. Juju doesn’t respond which is probably wise after the way Trixie snapped at her before, just takes it and goes to give it to whoever ordered it. “Is everything okay?” Katya asks Trixie quietly. Trixie’s expression tightens a little bit again, and a smile that looks forced pulls at her lips.

“Sure. Everything’s great,” she says. It’s not convincing at all. Katya glances around, sees Juju is watching them curiously. She shifts a little on the spot, trying to figure out how to ask if Juju’s done something to annoy her without Juju hearing her. Before Katya can say anything, Trixie looks past Katya and heaves a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god. Shea can take over again, I’m so ready to be done.” Katya turns around to see Shea walking towards them from the main entrance to the café, Sasha at her side.

“Katya!” Sasha’s face lights up when she spots Katya and soon she’s being swept into a hug. Katya forces herself to relax into it and it isn’t too hard, really: there’s a constant warm and calm energy that exudes from Sasha, and it always takes effect pretty quickly when Katya’s around her. “It’s been too long. How are you?” Sasha asks once she steps back, her hands moving from Katya’s back to grasp her forearms. She’s looking straight into Katya’s eyes, as intense as always, and Katya tries to maintain the eye contact. It _has_ been a while since she’s seen her: some of her summer freckles have faded and her long red hair is even longer.

“I’m fine! How are you?” she asks.

“I’m just fine. Shea told me you have a dog now!” Sasha says. Even her enthusiasm is calming, measured, somehow. Katya had forgotten how much she likes being in her presence.

“Yeah. She’s in the store, if you want to meet her,” Katya offers.

“Can you bring her in here?” Sasha asks hopefully. Katya glances over at Shea, who shrugs and then nods. Sometimes it’s best not to bring Ginny in if it’s busy, there’s too great a chance of her getting under someone’s feet, but it’s fairly quiet so it doesn’t seem likely it’ll be a problem.

“I can’t believe you still bring her in every day,” Pearl says from her spot beside Trixie. Shea has moved to Trixie’s other side, helping her deal with customers. Juju hovers at her side, clearly trying to help without getting in the way. Trixie doesn’t seem too forthcoming with giving her things to do, but Shea starts to show her how the system works when she puts through an order.

“I tried leaving her at home! Ginger made comments all morning until I brought her in,” Katya protests. Ginger still tries to pretend it’s a nuisance to have Ginny around all day, but she’s getting less subtle with her affection when Ginny’s near her now, cooing at her and letting her sit by her side.

“Oh yeah, and I bet you were _so_ annoyed by that,” Pearl says sarcastically. Katya rolls her eyes and ducks back out towards the store to find her dog.

Ginny is more than happy to follow Katya into the cafe: she might not be the brightest dog Katya’s ever come across, but she’s figured out by now that the cafe means Trixie and the occasional opportunity to finish someone’s half-eaten cookie if someone’s feeling kind enough to give it to her. She ends up pushing past Katya to get in first, and even though Sasha crouches down to greet her she ignores her completely, going straight for Trixie. Trixie disappears down behind the counter as Katya catches up, and even though she can’t see her she can hear Trixie fussing over her. Katya reaches Sasha just as she’s straightening up again, and she shoots Katya an amused smile.

“I guess she already has her favourites, then?” she says.

“I can’t blame her,” Katya says without thinking. She doesn’t realise how the words have come out until she notices Pearl looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “No! I mean – I just mean - you know..." Katya trails off lamely.

"No, we don't. Please, tell us," Shea says.

"Shea. Be nice," Sasha says while Katya's still trying to figure what she can possibly say to remedy this. Sasha wraps an arm around Katya's middle and squeezes gently; Shea grins at Katya but thankfully lets it drop.

"Hey, where's her bear? Did she destroy it?" Trixie asks, her head popping back up above the line of the counter as she stands up again.

"No, it's probably in the store somewhere," Katya assures her. Trixie always seems so pleased to see Ginny with the bear she gave her on the first day Katya brought her in, makes sure to mention it to Katya every time she spots it. Katya lives in a constant state of low-level fear that Ginny will tear it apart one day and she'll have to be the one to break the news to Trixie; she's already scouted out every pet store she goes into to see if she can find a back-up just in case. But, thankfully, so far Ginny seems as fond of it as she is of Trixie. She carries it around a lot of the time and has developed a half-endearing, half-disgusting habit of shoving it into Katya's face if she thinks she needs some of distraction, which mainly seems to happen when Katya's writing, head down and focused on the page in front of her instead of Ginny.

"I can't believe you have a dog here. This place is amazing," Juju says, and Katya doesn't miss the way Trixie rolls her eyes as Juju leans down to pat Ginny's head.

"She stays in the store most of the time, you probably won't see her very often," Trixie says. It's almost a complete lie, since Ginny comes in with Katya pretty much every day, but Katya isn't about to volunteer that information right now. Instead she coaxes Ginny back around to her side of the counter and quickly loses her attention to Sasha.

"I could always visit her in there. If I get the job, anyway," Juju adds quickly, sending a winning smile Shea's way. Shea just laughs a little. Katya's sure it's almost certain now that Juju will get the job, and she wonders again exactly what she's done to get under Trixie's skin. Trixie's jaw is set tight now and she's focusing staunchly on wiping down the counter in front of her instead of looking at anyone else.

"Katya, you should bring this sweet girl over sometime, I bet Vanya would love her," Sasha says, a thankful distraction. Apparently her calming effect isn't limited to Katya: Ginny is leaning right into her, snout burrowed in against her arm and her tail wagging slowly.

“God, you’re all so nice here! No one ever invited each other at my other place,” Juju says, leaning into the counter to watch Sasha and Ginny.

“Maybe they did but just never told you about it,” Trixie suggests, her tone sickly sweet.

“Trixie!” Shea says. She sounds exasperated.

“What! I was joking. Ha!” Trixie says. Shea scoffs, steps back to let Trixie get to the register when a customer comes in. “Can you show Juju how the system works?”

“Of course,” Trixie says, a forced smile plastered onto her face.

“Does this mean I get the job?” Juju asks Shea. She barely waits for Shea to smile in response before she lets out a shriek and covers her mouth with her hands. Trixie has the unfortunate spot closest to her and flinches, looks over at her with a clearly unimpressed expression.

“Oh wow,” she says, deadpan.

“I’m sorry, I’m excited! This place is so great, you have no idea,” Juju says, grabs at Trixie’s elbow and squeezes.

“Sure,” Trixie says, pulls her arm back from Juju’s grip. “Do you wanna know how this works or not?”

Katya notices Sasha’s eyes on her. When she sees Katya looking at her, she grins.

“ _I_ _thought maybe Shea was exaggerating what it’s like to be around you two but, wow. Why haven’t you asked that girl out yet?”_ she asks. Her voice always dips a little lower when she switches into Russian.

“ _Not you too,_ ” Katya says, barely holding back a groan. Sasha laughs, low and warm. She practically has Ginny gathered into her arms now, and Katya thinks maybe Trixie has competition for Ginny’s favourite person. “ _I don’t know why you guys keep saying shit like that_.”

“ _Even you can’t be that dense, Katya_ ,” Sasha says. She keeps eye contact with her the whole time; she has a way of looking at her that makes Katya feel like she’s seeing every thought running through her head.

When Katya looks away from her she sees Trixie watching them with wide eyes. Shea has apparently taken pity on her enough to show Juju how one of the machines work herself.

“I didn’t know you spoke Russian,” Trixie says. She’s leaning forward against the counter, and one of her hands come up to push her hair behind her ear, almost snags a curl in her earring. Behind her, Pearl looks up from where she’s been not-so-subtly checking her phone halfway out of her apron pocket.

“You didn’t know that _Yekaterina_ spoke Russian?” she asks Trixie, sounding surprised.

“That’s your full name?” Trixie asks.

“Uh. Yeah?” Katya says.

“How did you not know that?” Pearl asks. Trixie glances over at her, then back at Katya and lets out a little laugh that has no humour behind it.

“I don’t know. I guess I don’t actually know you all that well,” she says. "Why would I, right?" One arm wraps around her middle and she covers it with her other one, pulling them in close to her body. Katya flounders, trying to find the right words to say: _there isn't a lot to know, but you can know it all if you want to._

“Russian is such a cool language,” Juju says once she’s finished with Shea, stepping back in beside Trixie. “Are your parents first generation?”

“No,” Katya says. She’s kind of glad that Juju’s filled the silence, but she can’t shake the feeling that she’s done something wrong; Trixie still looks so downcast next to Juju. “They both grew up in Boston, second generation.”

“That’s cool. My parents are first generation, I think that’s why I don’t have the crazy-strong Boston accent. You don’t either, though.”

“I guess not,” Katya agrees. She thinks maybe it isn’t the best idea to keep this conversation going but can’t figure a way out of it.

“You don’t sound like you’re from Boston. Well, as far as I can tell what you should sound like if you're from Boston,” Trixie says, surprising her.

“No?” Katya replies. She’s never had as much of an accent as her parents do, and it’s only lessened since she moved. It’s not something she really thinks about a lot.

“No. I think my accent’s already starting to go, actually,” Trixie says thoughtfully. Katya blinks at her; no one says a word for a moment.

“Oh,” Juju says when it’s clear no one else is going to reply, “so...do you put on the Wisconsin one or something?”

Katya doesn’t miss the way Trixie’s cheeks burn red before she turns away from them.

"Have you ever been over to Russia? My parents are from Laos – you have no idea how many people try to guess where I'm from and they never get right – but I've never—"

"Hey, is Jinkx still around?" Trixie cuts in. Juju snaps her mouth shut, looks somewhere between annoyed and embarrassed. Trixie doesn't seem to care, is looking at Katya over her shoulder.

"Um. I think so? She was in there just now," Katya says, feeling a little awkward about totally ignoring Juju. Shea doesn't look all that impressed either, her arms crossed over her chest as she watches Trixie.

"Okay. Shea, I'm going on lunch now," Trixie says. It isn't a question but from her tone it almost sounds like a challenge.

"Fine," Shea says. Trixie nods, fitting the lid onto a coffee cup. It isn't an iced one, and Katya wonders if she's taking it for Jinkx instead of herself. She can't think of a time Trixie's taken anyone else a coffee voluntarily, except for the few occasions when she's made one for everyone.

"I'll be back later." Trixie sweeps around the counter, walking straight past Katya to get to the door without looking at her at all. Her boots click a little louder than usual; today they're pink.

It's rare these days that Katya doesn't spend her lunch break with Trixie if they're both working. Occasionally Trixie has to take a call for her other job or has to run errands since she's going straight there once she finishes her shift in the cafe, but even then she usually spends some of her time with Katya anyway.

Apparently today is the day Trixie wants to break that tradition.

Katya hadn't even realised she was close with Jinkx. Does she bring Jinkx coffee in the morning when Katya's not working?

"Don't worry," Shea says. Katya looks over at her but she's talking to Juju, patting her arm reassuringly. "She's just stressed, she works too hard. Come on, let me show you how this works again."

Katya doesn't linger much longer, forces herself to ignore Ginny's plaintive looks when Sasha lets her go so that Katya can take her back into the store.

It isn't until an hour or so later than Katya realises she never stopped to eat lunch, but it's not like she's about to go back to the cafe to get something now.

It’s okay. She doesn’t feel all that hungry, anyway.

 

***

 

"Have you seen Ginny?"

"What?" Ginger's mostly distracted, squinting at something on the screen in front of her at the counter.

"Ginny. Do you know where she is?" Katya asks. Ginger looks up, raises an eyebrow slowly at her.

"Are you trying to tell me you've lost your dog? You lost your _giant_ dog?"

"I'm going to take that as a no," Katya says, turns back to glance around the store again. She's already checked in on her most frequent nap spots, her chair in poetry, squeezed in behind the small comfy chairs in the children's section; she made sure she hadn't ended up in the break room, thought that maybe someone had shut her back there for the sake of a customer. She's asked Jinkx and Max and now Ginger and received varying degrees of concern, and now she's starting to worry that maybe she's slipped out of the entrance when someone's come in or out of the store. She's never tried to run away before but she's also dopey enough that she probably wouldn't realise what she's doing until she's trapped outside. Katya would like to think she'd have the sense to stick around and try to get back inside, but...well, she really isn't the brightest, and Katya wouldn't be surprised if she'd managed to take herself off in the wrong direction. She could be anywhere by now.

"Hey," Ginger says, cutting into Katya's increasingly frantic thoughts. Katya turns back around to look at her and Ginger looks pointedly towards the door to the cafe. Katya follows her gaze and breathes a long sigh of relief: the door is propped open.

"Thanks," she says, crosses the room to duck into the cafe. Sure enough she spots Ginny straight away. She's sitting under one of the tables in the corner; Trixie is trying to sweep around her while Shea deals with one of the two customers left in the store.

"Ah, god, I'm sorry," Katya says, going straight over to the table. "C'mon, dog, get out of the way."

"Oh yeah, she's causing _sooo_ much trouble," Trixie says dryly. Ginny whines and moves closer to Trixie, away from where Katya's trying to get her to come out from under the table.

"I didn't realise the door was open, I wouldn't have let her just wander in here," Katya insists. Still, she gives up on trying to coax Ginny back to her.

"It doesn't matter, we've barely had anyone come in," Trixie says. She hasn't looked at Katya this whole time, focusing on the floor ahead of her.

"I think she just wanted to see you again after she got co-opted by Sasha earlier," Katya suggests. Trixie's mood seems to have mellowed a little since she practically stormed out of the cafe at lunch time, but she's still not back to her usual self.

"Good to know she still knows who her favourite really is," Trixie says, nodding. When Ginny comes out from under the table entirely to stand right beside her she leans the broom next to one chair and sits down on another, reaching out to stroke her ears.

Katya isn't sure what to do: she doesn't want to sit down with Trixie in case she wants her to leave, but her dog is still here and she can't just abandon her with Trixie. She settles for hovering awkwardly by the other side of the small table.

Pearl appears through the door behind the counter. "Oh, hey," she says when she spots Katya, giving her a half nod as she pulls her short hair back into a messy ponytail. "I forgot to ask you to come out for a smoke. You're looking for me, right?"

"No," Katya says, a little amused by Pearl's assumption.

"Oh," Pearl says, looking a little insulted.

"She came to find Ginny," Trixie says, "and Ginny was looking for me because I'm her favourite." She still hasn't looked at Katya, even though Ginny's head is in her lap now and she's stroking her fingers through her fur.

Pearl shrugs, turns to Shea. "Did you call Juju yet?" she asks.

"Yeah, I managed to catch her before her last class. She was very excited, my eardrums suffered for it," Shea says. Katya glances over at Trixie, sees her clench her jaw. She tips her head down a little, leaning closer to Ginny, and her hair falls over her face, obscuring it from Katya's view.

"You gave her the job?" Katya asks Shea.

"Yeah. She knows what she's doing well enough, and I promised Trixie I'd find someone as soon as I could."

"And now you can get rid of me," Trixie says. Her voice is a little obscured by her hair but Katya can still hear the edge to it.

Shea rolls her eyes. "You quit, Trix."

"I know that," Trixie says. Her voice is tight. Finally, she looks over at Katya, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. "You must be pretty happy, _Yekaterina_."

"What?" Katya says, surprised. Trixie's eyes are narrowed a little, fixed directly on hers.

"It's pretty cool she's from Boston, right?" Trixie says.

"I – I guess?" Katya says, unsure.

Trixie snorts, stands up and pushes the chair back under the table so that the back bangs against the edge of the table.

"She's going to pick up a few shifts starting at the end of the week. I can have her cover some of yours, Trixie, I know it's been touch and go with your schedule," Shea says. Her voice is calm in a very measured way, and Trixie just shrugs as she rounds the end of the counter.

"That's fine, whatever. Give her whatever days you want," she tells Shea. Now that Trixie's left her Ginny slinks back over to Katya. She doesn't have any reason to be still be here anymore and she wonders if maybe she should leave, but she feels like maybe that would make things worse. Forever trapped by indecision, Katya stays where she is.

"Trixie, you can go home if you want," Shea offers. Pearl looks a little alarmed, Katya assumes at the idea of actually having to chip in with work until the cafe closes.

"What?" Trixie says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It's not that long until closing, I'm sure Pearl and I can handle things."

"Uh," Pearl says. Shea shoots her a look and she sighs, blows upwards at the hair already falling from her short ponytail. Trixie looks between them in silence for several long seconds, then glances over at Katya again. Katya doesn't know what she's looking for, just blinks back at her until Trixie shakes her head a little, her cheeks flushed.

"Sure, fine. No problem," she says shortly. Katya watches her yank her apron over her head and toss it towards Pearl, who fumbles trying to catch it and ends up dropping it on the floor. “Let me know about my shifts. I still need to pay rent.”

“I know,” Shea says calmly.

Trixie’s mouth is drawn into a tight line as she moves towards the door through to the back of the store. She looks back at Katya one last time, but she doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Katya says, unable to keep silent any longer. Their schedules line up better this week than they have for the last few, and she thinks maybe if she can talk to Trixie on her breaks without all of the drama that’s been going on today she might be able to get some idea of what’s bugging her about Juju.

“Don’t ask me, ask Shea,” Trixie says curtly.

“Trixie,” Shea sighs, but Trixie’s already disappeared through the door, letting it swing shut loudly behind her.

“Jesus, she’s such a bitch when she’s jealous,” Pearl says into the quiet Trixie leaves in her wake. Katya doesn’t have an answer to that, only a question: _jealous of what?_

 

***

 

Katya doesn’t see Trixie until Thursday evening after Juju’s interview on Tuesday. She doesn’t work Wednesday, and Katya’s surprised to see her in the café on Thursday when she goes in to grab Pearl for a last smoke break before close only a couple of hours before the end of the day.

“Oh. I didn’t think you were working today,” she blurts out when she sees Trixie behind the counter. Trixie turns around to look at her, gives her a tight smile that barely reaches the edges of her lips, let alone her eyes.

“Yet here I am,” she says, turning back around without waiting for Katya to reply. Pearl has already moved away from her spot in the corner behind the counter to wait by the door, and Katya decides it’s best not to linger.

“What’s the matter with you?” Ginger asks when she comes out to join them on the steps a few minutes later. The store is always quiet by this time in the afternoon and she must have decided Max would be okay to watch over things by herself.

“Me?” Katya asks in surprise when she realises the question was aimed at her.

“Yes, you!” Ginger says. “Who else would I be talking to?”

“I just assumed you meant Pearl,” Katya says.

“Why the fuck would you assume that?” Pearl asks, at the same time as Ginger says, “Yeah, that’s fair.” Pearl glares at them both, inhaling dramatically on her cigarette.

“Her girl’s still acting a mess,” Pearl says, looking at Katya but obviously talking to Ginger.

“Oh, no wonder you’re being so weird,” Ginger says.

“Oh my god, I have had it with you two, I swear to god, it’s not even worth it,” Katya says, goes to put out her cigarette even though she’s barely had two drags. Ginger reaches out and grabs her wrist.

“Trixie’s already being dramatic enough for everyone in this whole building, don’t you start with this shit too,” she warns. Katya tugs her wrist back and sighs, goes down the steps into the alley just to get away from them. It’s colder here, away from the shelter of the building, but she needs the space. Ginger’s watching her still, her free hand holding onto her elbow, and Katya stares right back at her, challenging her to engage. She doesn’t, turns away from her; Katya sees smoke drift upwards over her head as she exhales.

Katya isn’t sure if she’s glad she let it drop or not. She wants to know why Trixie’s still acting on so edge, and the bickering with Ginger is always a little therapeutic. But she doesn’t chase it, smokes her cigarette slowly and waits for the other two to go back inside before she follows them. She looks at the door to the café, pauses mid-step, then shakes her head and walks back through the break room to the store.

 

***

 

“Can you stop fidgeting? It’s so annoying,” Violet snaps. She glares over at Katya from her spot at the other end of the counter and Katya raises her hands, the sets her coffee down.

“It’s not my fault! How do these cups get so fucking hot, anyway? I swear it would be easier to hold the coffee in my hands,” Katya grumbles. She’s been pushing the coffee Pearl made for her that morning between her palms for a good few minutes, trying to absorb its warmth without burning her skin. She wishes she’d thought to ask Pearl to double wall it. Still, she’s grateful it was Pearl who greeted her that morning: when she’d come in last Sunday morning to find Juju grinning at her beside Shea she’d felt her stomach drop to the floor.

“You’re such a weirdo,” Violet sniffs. She’s been in a terrible mood all morning, stressed out because she forgot to ask anyone to switch shifts with her and she has two tests the next day. Katya would tell her to go home, it’s unlikely it’ll get so busy that they can’t do without her, but Ginger’s coming in later and she’s always happy to fight with Violet even if it’s someone else she should really be mad at. So Violet’s spread reams of paper out across the empty space by the registers, is hunched over them with a pen grasped in her hand, clearly trying to make sense of lecture notes.

“You want some help?” Katya offers. They’ve barely had any customers come in since opening and Max is being as diligent as ever, hidden away in the fiction section making sure that everything’s in order. Katya could probably do the same with her own sections but she doesn’t feel like it just yet, especially when it’s likely to be a quiet day and she’ll have plenty of time to check in on stock and make sure there isn’t anything she needs to do.

“Oh, do you know a lot about fashion history?” Violet asks, her tone acidic.

“Wow, okay. Fine, bitch,” Katya says, eyebrows raised. Violet sighs, rubbing her forehead.

“Sorry. I was up until four finishing another assignment and trying to get all of my notes together for today,” she says. It’s a rare thing for Violet to apologise so Katya lets it slide with good grace. She tries to stay quiet, but can’t help the disdainful noise she makes when she goes to drink her coffee.  “Oh my god,” Violet says, drops her pen and turns to face Katya properly, one hand on her sharp hip. “What’s wrong with you?”

“How can it be cold when the paper is still so hot?” Katya asks, half mournful, half mystified.

“You’re just mopey because your girl didn’t make it for you,” Violet says, tosses her long, shiny hair over her shoulder and turns back to her work.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s filter coffee, it doesn’t matter who makes it,” Katya replies, glad Violet’s not looking at her.

It doesn’t make any logical sense that her coffee tastes better when Trixie gives it to her, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Maybe, Katya thinks, it’s that she puts it in two cups. That has to be it.

She tries to keep drinking her cold coffee, but only manages a few more mouthfuls before she gives up and slides it off the counter into the trash. At least there’s a chance Juju will think to double wall her coffee for her, once Trixie’s gone.

Just the thought of that feels like a betrayal.

A few times in the last few days, Katya’s let herself imagine what it would be like if Trixie changed her mind. Decided that she doesn’t want to leave after all, that her new job is no good and her true calling is to work as a barista for the rest of her life. She’d stay in the café, and then…

And then what?

Katya’s always pulled from her daydreams by the realisation that it wouldn’t change anything. Trixie would still be here but it wouldn’t make her interested in Katya.

Katya takes herself away from the counter in an effort to avoid disturbing Violet and incurring her wrath. Max looks up when she passes fiction; she’s leaning into a corner, a book open in her hands. She looks embarrassed and apologetic, but Katya waves a hand at her before she can say anything. If the worst thing Max is going to do is actually read a book in the bookstore during her shift when there’s nothing else to do then she’s still the best employee they’ve ever had.

She may as well start checking through Jinkx's sections if she has nothing else to do, Katya decides. The store should pick up within a few hours as they creep towards lunch time; hopefully it'll hit that sweet spot between so quiet she ends up bored out of her mind and so busy that she wishes that she could kick everyone out and lock the door behind them. Thankfully, the latter only really happens around the holidays, when everyone's grasping for last minute gift ideas for the family member they've forgotten about and decide that they'd love to read whatever new thriller is topping the chart that day.

Katya tells herself she's not looking for the notes, but she can't pretend she's not keeping an eye out for any folded up sheets of paper as she skims through the shelves. Somehow Jinkx's sections are somehow always more jumbled the days after she works than when she hasn't worked a shift in a while; sometimes Katya wonders if she enjoys messing up the order just for fun, maybe when she's been pissed off by some college student who didn't know to find all their books pre-owned instead of coming into the store and taking out their anger at the stupidly high prices on Jinkx. Still, it gives Katya to do: take out everything in the wrong order, reorganise them in her arms; flick through the pages just to make sure there's nothing tucked inside.

She's sure she's had to wait longer than this before to get the notes back, but right now it feels like it's been an eternity and she's reached the inevitable point where she never sees them again. She hid them away in travel the previous Monday morning and they were gone by the next day when she checked the shelf for them; she hadn’t let herself check for them until Thursday morning, unwilling to let herself get her hopes up any earlier than that – and nothing. Nothing Friday, even when she spent the last thirty minutes before she went home scouring the whole store for them, painfully hopeful that she might find them in some as yet unused spot before she left the store for two days. By Sunday she’d been tempted to find an excuse to go in just to look for them, had only dissuaded herself with the knowledge that Ginger wouldn’t let her coming back into the store voluntarily drop anytime soon. By Monday morning she’d been certain they’d be there waiting for her when she got to the store; now it’s Tuesday and there’s still no sign of them anywhere.

Maybe, Katya thinks as she replaces an armful of books on the shelf in front of her, someone else picked them up. Someone else found them, just like she did, tucked into a shelf instead of on the floor. Maybe they found them on Monday when she hid them in travel or maybe they found them when they got replaced, maybe Katya didn’t get there quickly enough to find them in time.

She’s wondered before what would happen if someone else got there before her. If they spotted the sheets of paper sticking out of a line of books and took them out of curiosity, if they found them folded into the book they picked up and didn’t think to put them back. She doesn’t like to think about what would come after that; she knows they’d probably end up thrown in the trash.

Occasionally the thought crosses her mind that if one of the girls she works with found them they might recognise her handwriting – she always has to squash that thought immediately before it sends her into a tailspin, convinces her to throw the notes away the next time she sees them. She can’t bear the thought of Ginger or Jinkx or, god forbid, Violet, coming across them and…

Katya shakes her head a little, pushes her glasses up so that she can rub her eyes. She remembers her mascara a half-second too late and half-heartedly wipes under her eyes, hopes she hasn’t smudged it completely as she lets her glasses drop back onto the bridge of her nose. She can’t let herself start thinking about what would happen, especially when she hasn’t seen the notes in over a week, has no idea where they are or who saw them last. Can’t let herself think about any of her friends holding them up to laugh at, can’t let herself imagine them reading aloud the words she only let herself write in the knowledge she has no idea who she’s sharing them with, that they don’t know anything about her. She can practically hear Violet’s mocking laughter, she—

“Katya.”

Violet’s voice cuts into her panicked thoughts and Katya jumps, grabs onto the edge of the shelf in front of her as her heart races. When it starts to calm again she looks around at Violet, who’s watching her with a perfectly arched eyebrow raised high, elbows planted on the counter on top of her spread out notes.

“What is it?” Katya asks when she doesn’t say anything.

“You’re, like, extra crazy today, do you realise that?” Violet says. Katya turns around to face her properly, crosses her arms over her chest and lets her expression show how unimpressed she is. “What! You’ve been fully just staring at that shelf for five minutes. That’s crazy, bitch, and you know it.”

“It’s early,” Katya says in an attempt to defend herself, “and I couldn’t finish my coffee. I didn’t get enough caffeine, my brain’s still asleep. “

Violet rolls her eyes and beckons her over. Katya doesn’t move and Violet sighs, pushes her arms up off the counter.  “Come here!” she says.

“I was trying to give you space to study! I didn’t want you to bite my head off again,” Katya says, still a little wary as she crosses back over to the counter.

“You can go away again in a second,” Violet promises her. Katya huffs out a laugh as she reaches the counter. “Look!” Violet says, gestures down towards her feet. Katya pushes herself up on her toes and looks over the other side of the counter.

“Oh god,” she sighs, part amused and part long suffering when she sees Ginny attempting to wriggle her way into the space by Violet’s face. She’s spent the whole morning so far skulking around the store, trying to find some small space to curl up in; it’s been raining since last night and neither Katya nor Ginny had been impressed by spending their whole journey into work in the rain. Ginny seems to have spotted one of Katya’s old sweaters she keeps at the store for when it starts getting cold, and she’s trying to curl up with it in a space that’s far too small for her, no doubt trying to use soft fabric to dry off her damp fur, obstinately trying to fold gangly legs in against the side of the counter to get comfy.

“I thought you’d want to take a picture of her for her Instagram,” Violet says, carefully pulling her foot back to keep it out of Ginny’s way.

“Her what?” Katya repeats, looking up from Ginny to give Violet a quizzical look.

“That stupid Instagram account you have for her. You haven’t posted in a while, but this is pretty cute.”

“Gin – Virginia doesn’t have an Instagram. She’s a dog,” Katya says.

“Cut that shit out. I know you call her Ginny, your girl isn’t here to call you out on dropping that stupid name,” Violet says brusquely.

“It’s not stupid,” Katya starts, but Violet waves her off.

“Don’t play dumb with me about her page. I know you have one, I found it last week.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about. What page?” Katya asks, still confused. Violet peers at her, apparently assessing whether she’s lying. A second later she frowns, digs into the back pocket of her tight jeans and takes out her phone. “You’re supposed to put that in the break room,” Katya says half-heartedly. She knows that if a customer sees them looking at Violet’s phone they might take issue with it if it’s the wrong person, and Katya knows it’ll come back to bite her if someone complains about them.

“Oh yeah, okay. Sure, _Ginger_ ,” Violet scoffs, unlocking her phone and tapping at the screen. First she lifts her phone up, angles it down; the flash lights up over Ginny, her snout and one leg sticking out Violet’s feet. Then she taps at the screen again, takes a few seconds before turning it around and holding out for Katya to see. “You’ve really never seen this?”

Katya’s looking at a screen full of pictures of her dog. There’s one of Ginny sitting in front of the counter, another of her curled up under one of the small coffee tables in fiction. There’s a video that must be from one of the first days Katya brought her into the store since she looks so small, just a few seconds on a loop of her running around the shelves.

“I’ve never seen this,” Katya assures her. She swipes up the screen to the top: the page has a dozen posts and over a hundred followers already.

“I probably should have seen this coming, I was surprised you’d managed to run it well enough to get followers this quickly – I thought maybe you’d been pathetic enough to buy them or something.”

“Thanks,” Katya says dryly.

“If you’re not running it, though, then who is?” Violet asks. Katya shrugs, taps on the most recent picture. It’s a fairly close up spot of Ginny snoozing on her chair in the poetry section, one paw set over her snout.

 _At the end of a ruff day_ , the caption reads. As soon as Katya reads it she laughs, shakes her head. Violet looks at her questioningly and Katya hands her phone back to her, watches as she reads the caption. It only takes Violet a moment longer than her to put the pieces together and she groans, clicks her phone screen off and lets it drop an inch onto the counter for dramatic effect.

“Of course. Only the two of you would actually find a dumb pun that funny,” she says.

“Shut the fuck up, you know it’s funny!” Katya says.

“It’s absolutely not, you just have the most pathetic crush,” Violet says.

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” Katya says, turns on her heel and goes back over to finish reorganising Jinkx’s sections.

“I don’t know how you can be this ridiculous. She set up a fucking Instagram for your dog,” Violet says, her expression incredulous.

“She loves Ginny! It’s nothing to do with me,” Katya insists.

“If I didn’t need my notes so much I’d throw this at you,” Violet says, holding up her notebook. Katya rolls her eyes; when she turns to look at the shelves she sees Max watching them from fiction. She ducks back behind the shelves when Katya’s eyes meet hers. Given that Max isn’t the most talkative person and most of her impression of Katya since she started working in the store has come from hearing everyone else make fun of her, Katya’s sure Max must be convinced that she’s totally crazy.

Thankfully Violet is apparently pretty serious about studying, because she doesn’t bug Katya again. Katya re-focuses on organising the shelves in front of her; doesn’t let herself think about the notes again.

 

***

 

Katya can't quite bring herself to believe it when she hears the familiar click of boots approaching the door between the cafe and the store. She's only seen Trixie a handful of times since she left on Tuesday, and every time it's been a brief encounter in the cafe. There'd been nothing left of Trixie's normal warmth whenever she spotted Katya, no attempts to make conversation; each time she'd placed a coffee in front of her and moved to her next customer. It's always been pretty busy, Katya can't blame her for being too rushed to stop to talk to her, has to talk herself down from convincing herself that Trixie hates her now for some reason. Even when Katya attempted to catch her over her lunch she never managed it, either missing her before she disappeared out of the cafe for her break or getting into the cafe to find out she was only working for the morning. Katya's just about getting used to seeing Juju behind the counter with Shea and Pearl, but that doesn't mean she doesn't desperately miss her morning conversations with Trixie, lunch breaks spent at a corner table with her; double walled coffees passed over to her early in the morning with a warm smile. She hasn't seen that Trixie at all all week, but she misses her so much.

So when the door to the cafe opens and Trixie appears with a coffee in each hand, her body tilted slightly where she must have pushed the door open with her hip, Katya can't help but feel a little apprehensive. But then Trixie catches sight of her and smiles, big and genuine and Katya has to return it, can't help herself.

"Good morning," she says as Trixie reaches her.

"Good morning – ah!" Trixie says, rushing to set their drinks down just as Ginny reaches her. She crouches down in time to stop her jumping at her, leaning back on her heels as Ginny all but leaps into her arms. "Hi! Hi, I know, it's been a while," she says to her, pulling her head back to try to stop her licking her face in her excitement. "You've gotten so big already! How can she have grown this much in hardly anytime at all?" Trixie directs the last part at Katya, lifts her gaze up to her while Ginny wriggles happily in her lap, trying to get her paws up on Trixie's shoulders.

"I know, it's terrifying. She's turning into a horse," Katya says. Trixie laughs, screws up her face when Ginny starts licking her cheek.

"Hey! Stop that," she says, but it's in that dumb baby voice she always uses with her and does nothing to deter Ginny. "You're growing up so fast! God, is this what it feels like to have a kid, do you think?" she asks Katya with a grin.

"I think most people would hope their baby would be a little less furry and stupid," Katya says.

"Are you saying you wouldn't love a kid who came out a little furry? Or stupid? That doesn't sound like a very good parenting philosophy," Trixie says solemnly.

Katya heaves a dramatic sigh and replies in her best straight girl voice, "I guess I'm just not ready to be a mother yet." Trixie bursts out laughing at her and she grins back.

"You're such a fucking idiot," Trixie says, sounds so fond that it warms Katya's heart a little.

"I bet you can't wait to get away from this place now, right?" Katya says. Once the words are out of her mouth she's wondering if she shouldn't have said anything, if mentioning that Trixie's leaving will break this happy bubble they're in right now where Trixie is back to her happy self and things feel easier again. Katya watches her carefully, but after a moment's pause Trixie just shrugs, looking over at her again.

"I mean, yeah, you guys are all kinda insane. But I might have to steal Ginny, take her with me," she says.

"That would probably be a smart idea, actually," Katya says, and Trixie raises an eyebrow at her, "she's going to miss you when you're not around."

There's a pause, and then Trixie says, "Just Ginny?"

Katya bites the inside of her cheek, grasps at the bottom of her dress to keep herself grounded.

"You're right," she says after a moment, and Trixie looks surprised for a second. "Ginger's gonna miss you a lot, too."

For a split second there’s something like disappointment in Trixie’s eyes but then she’s screeching with laughter; it says a lot about how much time Ginny's spent with her that the noise doesn't even faze her anymore despite the fact that she's right in Trixie's lap now.

Katya realises she's hovering over Trixie and kneels down beside her instead, smoothing her palms over her dress towards her knees. Trixie's trying to get her hand into the pocket of her apron around Ginny, letting out a triumphant _ha!_ when she pulls her phone out.

"Oh! I wanted to ask you," Katya says as Trixie angles her phone out to take a picture of Ginny. Trixie falters, drops her hand back to her lap and looks over at Katya. She looks surprised and then something like cautious, cheeks flushed slightly pink.

"Ask me what?" she asks. She's watching Katya intently and for a moment Katya forgets what she wants to ask her, can't help the way her gaze dips to her full lips, the way her front teeth dip into her lower lip just slightly as she waits for Katya to respond.

"Uh...oh, Violet showed me the instagram page you made," Katya says. For a moment Trixie just stares at her, her expression so blank that for just a second Katya convinces herself that she's misjudged the whole thing, that Trixie had nothing to do with the Instagram page and has no idea what she's talking about. But then she closes her eyes, just briefly, and laughs, lower and shorter, nothing like the screech she just let out.

"Right. Of course _that_ 's what you...I can't believe you took this long to figure out it exists," Trixie says. She sounds a little tired, Katya thinks. It must be exhausting, balancing both jobs still, no wonder she's tired.

"Why didn't you tell me you made it?" Katya asks.

“I didn’t think it’d take this long for you to see it!” Trixie says, shrugging. “I help them run a bunch at work and I figured maybe it’d be fun to make one for her. I guess maybe I thought it’d make you laugh or something. But then you didn’t say anything and I thought maybe you _had_ seen it and didn’t like it, maybe, I don’t know.” She sounds surprisingly embarrassed, fiddling with the end of one of her sleeves as she speaks.

“What?” Katya says, surprised. Trixie isn’t looking at her again, eyes cast downwards. “I had no idea it existed! I don’t have instagram, no one told me there was anything on there about her.”

“Of course you don’t. You’re what, like, two steps away from disappearing into the mountains somewhere to totally disconnect from society for the rest of your life?” Trixie teases.

“Isn’t every dyke?” Katya says. Trixie laughs; it sounds better this time, louder and more like the happy yells Katya’s used to hearing from her.

“I don’t know, I’m not sure I’m ready to completely fall off the grid just yet,” Trixie says thoughtfully, “but maybe the right dyke could convince me.”

“Maybe she’d even compromise. A nice cabin far enough into the woods that you wouldn’t get any cell service but close enough to the rest of the world that you can still go to the store if you want to,” Katya suggests.

“Lesbians are supposed to be pretty good at compromise,” Trixie says. She’s looking at Katya again, cheeks a little flushed and her smile surprisingly soft given the silliness of the conversation.

“And the best at moving. No one knows how to organise a U-Haul better than the lesbians,” Katya says. Trixie laughs again, loud and brash, and the force of it tips her over a little so that her shoulder bumps against Katya’s. It must have been an accident but she doesn't move away, the line of her arm pressed against Katya's warm and sure. Katya doesn’t dare move, even breathe too deeply for fear of breaking the contact. Trixie doesn't move either for a moment, then pulls one of her legs out from underneath her until it's stretched out in front of her; she shifts carefully and Katya thinks at first that she's trying to move herself away from Katya but her arm stays lined up against her.

"How are things going with the new girl?" Katya asks. She isn't sure if she's meant to ask but she feels like she should, think she should probably acknowledge that things are changing even if it's the last thing she wants to do.

"I wondered when you'd ask about your new best friend," Trixie says. She sounds like she's supposed to be joking but when Katya looks over at her there's no smile on her face.

"I've barely even spoken to her," Katya points out.

"Seemed like you have a lot in common with her the other day," Trixie says.

"That we come from the same place?" Katya asks. Trixie shrugs and Katya feels her whole body rise and fall just a little with it. "It's not like that matters. I don't know her."

"I guess," Trixie says in a small voice. Katya can't bear it.

"Come on. She might be able to make okay coffees but she's never going to be able to manage Pearl as well as you do," she says. Trixie huffs out a little laugh and Katya bumps her elbow into her arm, just lightly. There's a pause for second and then Trixie bumps her back.

"She can't replace you," Katya says, grasping at a momentary rush of bravery.

"She already has," Trixie says.

"Not really. It won't be the same," Katya insists. She looks over at Trixie and sees the colour's returned to her cheeks. “You know she’s going to drive Pearl insane. She’ll be begging for you to come back as soon as you leave,” she adds, can’t help the pride that swells in her chest when that makes Trixie laugh.

No matter how many times it happens, she always feels good when she can make her laugh.

“Oh, am I not paying enough attention to you now?” Trixie says to Ginny. She’s wriggling in Trixie’s lap, trying to stick her head under her arm, ends up knocking Trixie’s leg against Katya’s where Katya still has her feet tucked under her.

“You’re her favourite,” Katya tells Trixie. Trixie doesn’t move her leg back, just lifts her head enough to grin at Katya.

“Can you blame her?” she asks.

“Not at all,” Katya replies straight away. She doesn’t even think about it until the words have left her mouth, but thankfully Trixie looks pleased instead of creeped out.

“That reminds me, actually, I should give you the details for the account,” Trixie says. “Do you have your phone? I can log you in.”

“It’s in my locker,” Katya says. Trixie tips her head a little, looks at her fondly.

“Of course it is. Just make sure I give it to you before I leave today, okay?” She’s looking back down at Ginny in her lap by the time she finishes speaking, flipping her hand over and wiggling her fingers where Ginny’s trying to chew them.

“Why today?” Katya asks. Trixie seems to hesitate for a moment before she answers her, and Katya realises what she’s going to say a split second before she speaks, wishes she had time to take her question back so she doesn’t have to hear her say:

“It’s my last shift today.”

The words hang between them for a long moment. Trixie still isn’t looking at her, letting Ginny chase her hand. Katya feels her mouth open but can’t find the right words. She feels caught out, her chest impossibly tight and her fingers curling into her palm, nails digging into her skin.

“I thought you were staying until the end of the month,” she finally says; her voice sounds faint even to her own ears. Trixie shrugs, pushes her hair behind her shoulder.

“I would have done if Shea needed me to. But it’s not like little miss perfect Juju needs much training, so…” She trails off, lifts her free arm up a little in some half-gesture. “I mean, it’s like: what’s keeping me here? You know?”

“So you’re going today? That’s it?” Katya asks. She wants to answer Trixie’s question, try to persuade her to say but doesn’t know how she can without spilling everything she feels about Trixie from where it’s tucked away safe deep in her chest.

“That’s it,” Trixie agrees. She finally looks up at Katya again and Katya thinks she looks a little sad.

“But…” Katya trails off, shakes her head a little. She feels a little sick; it’s as if she’s been cheated, had the rest of her time with Trixie snatched away from her in an instant.

“But what?” Trixie asks. Katya looks back at her and she’s still watching her; their eyes meet and Trixie’s are so big, wide and framed by lashes that are so long and dark that Katya can’t fathom how she gets them to look like they that.

They’re so close now: Katya’s shoulders are tilted awkwardly so that she can look at Trixie without breaking the contact where their sides are pressed together. She can just about feel the way her body is moving as she breathes, can’t bring herself to look away from her even though she’s aware that she still hasn’t answered Trixie’s question and just stared at her instead. But Trixie hasn’t looked away either. It suddenly feels like it would be insanely easy to close the gap between them, to bring her hand up and wrap it around the back of Trixie’s neck, push her fingers into Trixie’s curls and press their lips together. Trixie’s lips look so soft and her front teeth are digging into her bottom lip just a little as she watches Katya; Katya wants to kiss her, to see if her lips would feel as soft against hers as they look, to know good it would feel if Trixie kissed her back.

For the briefest moment, Katya imagines that maybe she would.

“Katya,” Trixie says. Katya’s never heard her voice so quiet, so soft; the sound of her own name as little more than a sigh is something she never expected to hear from her. “Katya—”

“I’m so sorry I’m late! I—Oh, god, oh no, I’m sorry.”

Katya lurches back at the sound of Max’s voice behind her. She hadn’t realised she’d already leaned in a little towards Trixie, feels mortified as she imagines how crazy she must have seemed.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says quickly, pushing herself up onto her feet and pushing her fingers back through her own hair just to keep them occupied.

Trixie doesn’t move from the floor. Katya barely lets herself look at her but in the tiny glimpse she gets her eyes are closed, mouth pulled up a little at the sides but her expression anything but happy. Katya looks away quickly, and when she turns towards the counter to find something to keep her hands busy she hears the sound of Trixie pushing Ginny off her lap and getting up from the floor.

“I should get back to work. I promised Shea I’d make sure Juju knows how everything works before I leave today,” Trixie says. She sounds like a little awkward; Katya can’t blame her. If she realises what Katya was thinking about then she must be desperate to get away from her, relieved that she doesn’t have to see her again after today. Katya doesn’t reply, her mouth bone dry and her brain spinning into overdrive as she feels anxiety pumping around her body. She puts her hands on the flat top of the counter, presses down just enough to stop them shaking.

For a moment there’s silence, and then Katya hears a sigh followed by the sound of Trixie’s footsteps as she leaves.

“I’m gonna go out for a cigarette,” Katya tells Max when she can form the words. When she turns around to face her Max is watching her with a guilt-stricken expression, her pale face somehow even paler than usual.

“Katya, I’m so—”

“Can you keep an eye on Ginny?” Katya asks, cutting her off.

“Of course,” Max says. “Take your time.”

Katya feels numb as she walks out into the breakroom. She manages to get her locker open on her first try, focuses all of her energy onto stilling her hands enough. It’s cold outside, too cold to be out here in just a dress with the winter wind whipping at her hair, but she barely feels it. She goes to the small steps down into the alley and sits on the top one, feet tucked onto the next one down so that her knees are pressed high against her chest. By the time she gets her cigarette lit her fingers are trembling again and she doesn’t have it in her to stop them anymore. She drops her lighter onto the step beside her and drags her hand down over her face, exhaling long and deep and shaky.

Three, _It’s my last shift today_.

Two, _what’s keeping me here?_

One, _Katya—_

Katya tries to focus on her breathing, presses the fingertips of her free hand against her temple. She fumbles to bring her cigarette back to her lips, keeps her eyes shut tight. She doesn’t let herself think of anything but inhaling deep and exhaling slow, the warmth of the cigarette between her fingers. Doesn’t let herself think of Trixie’s eyes fixed on her own, her side pressed against Katya’s, teeth dipping into her pretty lips.  

Katya doesn't realise she's almost finished her cigarette until it's practically burning her fingertips. She stubs it out and tosses it into the trash, considers lighting another before telling herself firmly that it isn't going to do her any good to spend the whole morning sitting out here.

As Katya's walking back through the store she realises that she didn't see Trixie pick up her coffee. She's been outside for a little while but she thinks she'll probably still want it – maybe she'll have just made herself another one by now but Katya can at least take it to her anyway. Maybe she can apologise, maybe she can fix things so that Trixie doesn’t leave without saying goodbye, maybe—

When she gets to the counter, Trixie's coffee is gone.

"Did you see a drink left here?" Katya asks Max. Ginger’s finally appeared and is digging through her purse. She’s probably about to go out for a cigarette, might be about to give Katya shit for going out without her, but Katya doesn’t care about her right now.

"Yeah. I figured it was Trixie's, I took it through to the cafe," she says. Katya's disappointment must translate in her expression because Max looks mortified. "Was I not supposed to?"

"No, god, don't worry about it," Katya says, making a conscious effort to pull her expression back into something more neutral.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think, I just—"

"It's fine, really," Katya assures her. It’s probably for the best – what was she going to say to Trixie anyway? What good could come from chasing after her?

"Girl, didn't anyone tell you not to get involved with their weird little lesbian mating ritual?" Ginger says. Max still looks uncertain and Katya avoids looking at her, doesn’t even try to respond to Ginger, walks around behind them instead. There’s new stock in today and Katya’s grateful for it, glad for the easy excuse to keep herself busy and away from anyone else. She takes a stack from behind the counter and retreats to the back of the room. No one tries to follow her, and she forces herself to zero in on the task in front of her and block everything else from her mind.

 

*** 

 

Katya is kneeling on the floor in the children’s section when she hears Trixie’s voice in the store. She automatically tucks herself in closer to the shelves, trying to keep herself out of sight; it’s almost the end of the day and so far she’s managed to avoid seeing Trixie again. She’s avoided as much human interaction as possible, really, ducking away from any customers who look like they’re going to ask for help and counting on Max and Jinkx, when she appears after lunch, to step in. She even sees Ginger helping a couple of people, which is a pretty rare feat; she usually makes the most of her status as their manager to keep away from having to talk to the customers unless she decides to step in and ring anyone up at the counter. Katya thinks maybe she’s taking pity on her: not only has she actually talked to some of the customers but she also presented Katya with a coffee after disappearing into the café mid-afternoon.

“Don’t say anything,” she’d warned Katya when she handed it to her, “I don’t want to get involved. I just didn’t want you to fall asleep on me, I can’t handle two narcoleptics in one shift.”

“I could report you,” Jinkx had said from over by the counter, and Ginger had snorted and retreated back across the room to bicker with her, leaving Katya alone. Katya hadn’t said a word, just taken a moment to look at her own name written in neat, round writing on the side of the cup. Trixie hadn’t left yet. Katya had run her fingers over the loopy ‘K’ at the beginning of her name, then covered it with her palms, kept it covered until she threw it in the trash.

“I can’t believe I forgot to bring it with me,” Jinkx is saying. She must have come in with Trixie from the café, Katya realises, and now they’re walking through the store. For a moment she thinks they’re coming right for her, feels herself start to panic at the idea that maybe Trixie told Jinkx what happened that morning, but then she sees them pass her and realises they’re heading towards the door to the break room.

“It’s really sweet of you,” Trixie says. She sounds like she means it, and Jinkx laughs.

“Don’t be too grateful, I’ve had it in my locker for at least a week now. Here, I’ll get it, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Okay,” Trixie agrees. She stops by the door while Jinkx goes through it. Katya can see her pretty clearly from her spot kneeling on the floor, notices the way the way she rocks back on the heels of her boots before settling. Katya doesn’t move an inch as she watches her, watching as she pulls one of her arms up behind her back and wraps her free hand around her elbow, the chunky rings on her fingers catching the light as her fingers drum lightly against her skin. Trixie turns slightly so that her back faces Katya, and she looks like she’s looking around, trying to see into the poetry section on the other side of the room. She leans forward on her toes before tipping back again, then turns around completely. Her eyes meet Katya’s.

“Oh,” she says, clearly surprised to find Katya right in front of her. She lets go of her elbow so that both of her arms are loose at her sides. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Katya replies, is sure her face must be burning red with embarrassment at getting caught. She wishes she’d moved, ducked out of the corner when she first heard Trixie and Jinkx approaching. She can’t do anything about it now, so she stands up just for something to do with her body.

“Jinkx is just, uh – well, she said she had to give me something. I don’t know what’s taking her so long,” Trixie says, gesturing to the break room. There’s a crash behind the door and Trixie looks alarmed, her eyes going impossibly wide and her curls whipping around as she turns to face the door.

“I’m fine, it’s fine!” Jinkx shouts a moment later, “I’ll be out in just a second!”

“It’s probably best to leave her to it,” Katya says. She’s used to dealing with Jinkx’s antics, but then realises that Trixie going to check on her would have given her the perfect opportunity to slip away. She wonders if maybe Trixie will go anyway, but turns back towards her a second later.

“I told her not to worry, she can just give me whatever it is next time I stop by,” she tells Katya.

“The next time you stop by?” Katya repeats, surprised. Trixie’s lips start to twitch into a smile before smoothing back out again.

“Sure. I mean, I promised Shea I’d still come in when I pass. It’s not like I’m never going to be here again, right?” Trixie says.

“Right,” Katya echoes, unable to process the idea enough to respond properly. She hadn’t even really considered that she might see Trixie again, that she might just appear in the store again in the future without any warning. She isn’t sure what to do with that idea.

“Oh, I need to give you the log in! I knew you’d forget, can you get your phone?” Trixie says. Katya pulls herself out of her thoughts and starts to move towards the break room on autopilot before reconsidering, stopping and shaking her head.

“No, don’t give it to me,” she says. Trixie blinks at her and her face falls. She brings her arms up around herself, tucking her hands under her armpits.

“I didn’t realise you were that much of a technophobe,” Trixie says. She sounds a little defensive and Katya realises how her words must have sounded to her.

“I could never keep up with it! You should keep it, you could do it whenever you come back in,” she suggests. Trixie considers her, her arms loosening around her middle. Over by the counter she hears someone snort and Trixie’s eyes flicker to look over Katya’s shoulder for a second before looking back at her. Katya mentally promises to get back at Ginger later.

“I guess I could do that. I don’t have time to teach you how to use the right hashtags,” Trixie agrees. The tiniest spark of hope lights in Katya’s stomach: maybe it’ll never happen, maybe Trixie will walk out of the door and Katya will never see her again – but maybe not.

She really, really hopes not.

“I found it!” Jinkx announces when she emerges from the break room, waving something in her hand and grinning at Trixie. She looks between the two of them and the smug expression that flashes across her face for a brief second makes Katya wonder how much of her delayed stay on the other side of the door was intentional. She evens out her features pretty quickly and Katya waits until Trixie’s turned towards her to roll her eyes.

“I know it’s pretty late – well, very late, you’ve worked there as long as you’ve been here and you’ve had that fancy new job of yours for weeks now, but still!” Jinkx says, handing Trixie a card. It’s almost bend in half, looks like Jinkx has tried to flatten it out again, but Trixie still looks pleased.

“You didn’t need to do this,” she says as she opens it up. Katya isn’t close enough to read the message inside, it’s especially hard given Jinkx’s loopy handwriting, but she can see the message is long. She never realised how close they are, feels stupid for missing it. It's not like she could have been the only one to see how great Trixie is. Trixie laughs at something Jinkx has written and then closes the card, wraps her arms around her in a tight hug. "You're an idiot," she tells her, "don't go getting lost in any swamps, okay? At least save it for when I'm around to hear the stories and laugh at you."  
  
Katya wonders if she should try to slip past them, if maybe she's intruding on them saying goodbye, but then Trixie steps back and looks over at Katya again.  
  
"I'll see you soon?" she says. It sounds like a question and Katya nods, doesn't move from her spot beside the curve of the wall. Trixie nods back, then turns to head back towards the cafe. Then she turns back around, so quickly it looks like she's spinning, and then she's in front of Katya and wrapping her arms around her in a hug.  
  
"Oh," Katya says in surprise, and Trixie seems to stiffen briefly before Katya brings her arms up. Her soft hair is pressed against Katya's cheek and she catches some in her hand when she sets it on Trixie's back. She smells the same as she did the night outside her building and Katya doesn't let herself hug her too tightly, slide her arms over the backs of her shoulders, even though she wants to. Trixie pulls back slowly a minute later and her hand slides down Katya's arm, comes to a stop just past the end of her sleeve at her elbow and squeezes lightly.  
  
"Bye," she says, her voice quiet. She lets go of Katya and then she's gone, the door to the cafe swinging shut behind her before Katya can consider trying to say anything.  
  
"You know," Jinkx says, and Katya just about manages not to jump at the reminder of her presence, "you're the reason people say lesbians are useless."  
  
"What?" Katya says. Jinkx rolls her eyes and shoves shoulder her, light and good-natured, before going back over to the counter.

“Useless!” she calls over her shoulder.

 

***

 

Katya didn’t mean to save her poetry section for last, but when it gets to closing and she realises she still hasn’t put away its new stock she wonders if she subconsciously kept it until now. She could leave it until tomorrow, but it’s not as if she’s in any rush to get home. Ginger’s always itching to get away as soon as possible so Katya waves her away with the promise to lock up and make sure she gets there before her in the morning so that there won’t be an issue getting the store open in time, which is hardly a difficult promise to make. She can’t imagine she’ll be sleeping particularly easy tonight, anyway.

Katya closes down the registers, goes through the stock list and ticks off everything she’s gone through, tucks her pen behind her ear for safekeeping before switching off most of the lights in the store, only leaving the back rows left on to make sure she can see what she’s doing. When she first starts carrying piles of books across the store Ginny is curled up on the chair in poetry but apparently Katya’s constant movement is enough to disturb her, send her wandering off to find somewhere more peaceful to snooze. It’s pretty handy, really, since now Katya doesn’t need to haul the step ladder out from behind the counter to get the new books up onto the highest shelves, can just use the chair instead now that it’s free.

Between keeping herself balanced with one foot up on the arm of the chair, the other planted on its seat, and alphabetising in her head, Katya can try to distract herself from the fact that Trixie’s gone.

It shouldn’t feel as big as it does. Katya’s known Trixie would be leaving sooner or later for weeks now, it’s not even like she was ever planning on staying here for that long. She’s hardly a world away from her, either: she’s friends with Shea, Katya wouldn’t be surprised if she stayed in touch with Pearl despite her constant bitching about her. There’s barely a degree of separation between them even with Trixie gone from the cafe, but it feels as if she’s crossed the ocean and vowed never to return.

 _I’ll see you soon_ , she’d said; it feels like it’s all Katya has to cling to.

She's almost finished putting out the stack of books in her arms, just two more to fit into the shelf before she can start on the next ones waiting for her on the floor next to the chair. She goes to tuck the book in her hand into a gap at the end of the shelf, wiggles the book at the end of the shelf to make enough space – and the corner of a sheet of paper sticks out in the gap. Katya stares at it for a second, unwilling to get her hopes up since she's all but resigned herself now to the idea that whoever was writing them has given up, that she'd never see them again, and then tucks the book onto the shelf and sets down the other two books in her arms to free up her hands.  
  
Katya can tell it's the notes straight away, spots her own handwriting through the back of the paper. She considers sitting down and looking through them now; she's aching for the distraction and the poetry section is usually her favourite spot to write in. But she decides against it, figures she'll need the distraction even more when she's home and faced with trying to sleep in the knowledge that Trixie won't be here when she comes back to the store in the morning.

She's grateful that one good thing has come out of today.

  
She still has the notes held in both of her hands when she realises there are footsteps approaching her. At first she thinks it's Ginny but Ginny's paws never sound like boots usually. The footsteps stop behind her and Katya fumbles to tuck the notes into the pocket of her dress and sweep the books back into her arms from where she abandoned them on the top of the shelves before looking over her shoulder.  
  
_I’ll see you soon_ , she’d said; Katya had never expected it to happen so soon. Yet here she is in front of her, arms crossed over her chest and her expression blank and impossible to read.  
  
"I thought you'd gone," Katya says when it becomes clear Trixie isn't going to speak.  
  
"I was helping Shea after we closed," Trixie says. She still has her apron on, though it sits a little lopsided over her hips after a whole day of moving around. Her hair is a little fluffier than usual around her face, her lipstick far less bright but still impressively intact.  
  
"Okay," Katya says. She feels awkward, looking down at Trixie from her spot on the chair, and she shifts around a little until she's at least facing her fully, shifts the books in her hands into the crook of one arm. "Did you need something?"

"Do you guys have a self-help section in here?" Trixie asks. Katya blinks at her in surprise.  
  
"Uh," she starts, feels like she's waiting for Trixie to laugh and explain the rest of the joke. She doesn't say anything, though, just watches Katya with the same serious expression. "Yes? It's not big, but we have some books over—"  
  
"Great," Trixie says, cutting her off, "I need to find something about how to get the most useless lesbian I've ever met to ask me on a date."  
  
Katya feels like time comes to a halt around them. Trixie is still standing still right in front of her, but now Katya notices that her expression is bordering on defiant but her fingers are toying with the edge of the sleeve of her shirt.  
  
Katya's sure her heart is about to beat right out of her chest, the thudding of it loud in her ears. She knows she's just staring at Trixie, that she needs to say something but she's still trying to make sense of Trixie's words, replaying them over and over.  
  
"I..." she starts, hopeful that if she can just start talking then more words will have to follow, but they don't. She closes her mouth again and Trixie shakes her head, makes a frustrated noise.  
  
"Listen, I...when I moved here, I promised myself – well, I promised Kim, actually – I promised that I wasn't going to get involved with anybody. I always end up doing the same thing, I ask a girl out and I don't play any games and it never works out, I always up more invested than I should be, than anyone else ever is." Trixie sounds a little pained at the confession, pulls her arms closer around herself.  
  
"Trixie," Katya says, but Trixie shakes her head again.  
  
"I wanted to get a fresh start when we moved here and so I swore off it all, I said I wasn't going to date at all while I figured my shit out here and I meant it – and then I met you and..." Trixie trails off, shrugs. "It felt different. I thought you liked me; I still do, I think, even though you seem totally determined to convince me otherwise. I keep trying to make sure you know I'm interested because for once I didn't want to have to be the one to put myself out there – I guess I wanted you to like me enough to tell me, to make a move or just do something about it. But it's been all this time and now I don't even know whether you're just completely clueless or if I'm being an idiot all over again and you were never into me in the first place and I just convinced myself you were." Trixie laughs a little, just quietly, sounds more tired than amused, looks down at the floor briefly and then back up at Katya, cheeks flushed pink. "I mean, it wouldn't be the first time. And you never said anything so I thought maybe I should just give up since I'm leaving, but then this morning...I really thought..." Trixie shrugs again. She looks a little defeated now, arms loosening. "I didn't want to go without knowing for sure, even if you tell me I'm a total idiot."  
  
Katya realises Trixie's done talking, that she's waiting for Katya to say something, but she feels frozen. She tries to find the words, to figure out how to tell her how much she likes her, that she never wanted Trixie to doubt herself over her, but her thoughts are too fast for her mouth to catch up. Trixie watches her for a long moment and then sighs, lets her arms drop.  
  
"Just forget it. I'm gonna go," she says. She sounds exhausted and it's not like Katya can blame her.  
  
She can't let her leave.  
  
"Trixie!" she says, finds herself jumping down from the chair and haphazardly tossing the books in her arms onto it behind her before dashing out into the store to catch her. Trixie's already made it halfway to the door but she stops, looks back around at her. "The, uh. The door's locked, you can't get out of that one now," Katya says. It's pretty dark out here, away from the lights left on back by poetry, but she can still see the way Trixie's expression drops, the tiny smile that pulls at her lips within an ounce of happiness to it.  
  
"Right, of course," she says. She walks back towards Katya and past her, aiming for the door through to the back.  
  
Trixie is interested in her, she said so, and now she's leaving because Katya can't make her brain work. Katya can't let this be the end.  
  
"Do you want to get coffee? With me? Sometime?" Katya says before she even realises what she's thinking. Trixie stops again but doesn't turn around for a moment, leaves Katya staring at her back before she turns on her heel.  
  
"Coffee?" she repeats. "Did you just ask me to get coffee with you?"  
  
"Uh," Katya says, already doubting the idea herself.  
  
"Did you just ask me to get coffee with you on the day I've just finished working in a cafe?" Trixie says. She sounds like she's trying to be serious but Katya can hear the glee in her tone. Katya's eyes flicker down to the apron around her middle and back up to her face; there's a real smile spreading across Trixie's lips now.  
  
"I didn't – it's just an expression, I—"  
  
Trixie cuts her off with a laugh, takes another step towards her. She's practically glowing now, the smile on her face so big that Katya's sure it must be hurting her cheeks.  
  
She's smiling like that because of Katya. Katya can't quite comprehend it.  
  
"Do you have your phone with you?" Trixie asks, then says, "No, of course you don't," before Katya can respond. She grabs the notepad out of her apron pocket and then drums her fingertips against it, looking around before focusing her gaze on Katya again. "Ah! Perfect," she says, taking another step closer to her until there's barely any distance between them. Katya blinks at her in surprise when she leans forward, extends her hand, then understands when she gently tugs the pen tucked behind Katya's ear free.  
  
"Old school, right?" Trixie says, leaning over a little to lean her notepad against her thigh. A second later she tears the page off and Katya gets a glimpse of numbers and hearts drawn over 'i's before she folds it twice into a small square. Trixie looks up at her when she’s done – the grin is back and Katya's chest squeezes tight in a way that’s the furthest thing from unpleasant – and then she reaches out towards her again. Katya looks down and sees her hand drifting over the pins on her lanyard; she finally settles on the rainbow pin that sits just above her Poundcake one. She opens it up deftly and pushes the sharp point through the paper, closes it again after.  
  
"Call me when you get a better idea, okay?" she says. She's still so close to Katya, her face right in front of hers. She leans in even more and for a thrilling, terrifying second Katya thinks she's going to kiss her, but then she gently pushes Katya's glasses back up her nose instead. From the wicked smile on her face when she steps back again Katya's sure that she knows exactly what impression she gave off, what Katya thought she was going to do.  
  
"Okay," Katya agrees, mouth dry. Trixie grins at her blindingly, nods and takes a few steps backwards before finally turning away from her. Just before she goes through the door at the back of the room she turns back for just a second and waves, just a wiggle of her fingers, and Katya just about manages to raise her own hand in response. Trixie laughs, sounds positively giddy, and then Katya watches her disappear through the door, doesn't move from her spot in the middle of the dark store.  
  
When the door shuts behind Trixie, Katya looks down at the paper sticking out of the pin, brings her hands up to touch it. They're trembling, just a little. She doesn't try to undo the pin, just clutches at the material of the lanyard tightly enough that it snaps apart at the back, falls loose into her hands. When it drops she can see what Trixie’s written on the paper, now visible in the gap where the paper’s folded over.

 

 _Call me!_ — _Trixie_

 

Katya smiles. She will.


End file.
